Life in Moderation
by Fantastical Queen Ebony Black
Summary: [COMPLETE] [AU] KaguSess A story about just how beautiful life can be when you’re hardly doing anything at all. And how the words unspoken can mean the most. But the past never wants to stay hidden...
1. Those Words

_life in moderation_

chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** ahem FAN... fiction...

I wake up to the smell of coffee and eggs. Pushing the sheets from me, I nearly fall out of my bed. Hair lopsided, and my shirt twisted to partially reveal a breast. This is my morning face.

Needless to say, mornings are not my thing. But I've got a class at 10:00, and we do what we have to do.

Stumbling into the hall, I rub my eyes, following the smell into the kitchen. Per usual, a wet-haired man flips eggs, not even looking up at me as I enter.

"I tried to wake you."

"Yeah," I yawn, brain too numb to think of anything else to say, "I know."

The splayed yolk sizzles as I sip the hot caffienated drink that'd been put out for me.

"So, when do I get to read your book?"

"When it's published," he says, putting a plate in front of me before sitting down himself on the stool next to the counter. Damp, silvery strands stick to his broad shoulders, covered by a black T-shirt.

"What's it about?"

"Same thing as yesterday, Kagura."

"You're such a tight-ass."

He still refuses to let me know. So I eat my eggs, take a shower and gather my things from my messy room. He snorts as he walks by, telling me to clean. I stick out my tongue, and ask him to put up my hair.

He does, carefully, smoothing it back so I look half-decent. He makes sure the comb doesn't bite into my scalp, and he never catches the elegant earrings I put in for effort. Fingers soft, I become silent for a while. I have no words, they escape me.

"There. Done."

I can only be spared two words of his breath.

I guess not many college girls live like this. With an almost boy-friend who refuses to sleep in the same room as me. Hell, I don't even know how old he is! The topic never came up, and, well...

I don't care!

He sits at his desk in the living room, typing. Deleting. Reformatting.

He's got two published already, and I had to admit, they're pretty good. A little deep for me. But who am I to deny talent, when I don't have any to speak of?

I guess he's the only person keeping me going through life. One day I just moved into his apartment, as opposed to begging nights from friends. I wanted nothing to do with my parents, or my siblings. I was all on my own.

But he found me, one day, walking down the street. And he bought me a coffee. Actually, he got coffee, and I insisted on having am iced frappachino with a donut. With rainbow sprinkles. I made him pay for it too, but he didn't seem to mind all that much.

Somehow, I brought out the strength to take the money I had and go to school, while working part-time in the library. He pushed me for it. Without words, he showed me how. It's been six months now. Six months I've lived like this with him, and I've never been happier.

Life is funny like that.

I open the door, flourescent light leaking in. The doorhanger reading 'Not Welcome' swings off beat, the only noise in the lonely hallway.

"Sesshou-maru."

Keys clack in response.

"I love you."

The clacking stops abruptly.

"It's about you," he mutters, "Alright?"

A pause, as I adjust the purse hanging off my arm.

I never expect to hear it back or anything. I just say it sometimes. I'm not even sure if it's true, but it feels right coming from my mouth. Finally I'm able to wet my mouth, and pick up where time left off.

It's about me...?

"See you this afternoon, if you're still alive."

"Bye."

I shut the door, then lean back on it from the outside, sighing. It's blissful torture. But torture all the same.

Still, he's writing about me? Why would he do that?

"You're going to be late."

"Yeah. Sorry."

"Kagura," I hear him take one of those sexy, deep breaths I make him take after our rare kisses.

"I love you."

I smile and head down the hall without another word, as his ring in my ears.

_ende chapter 1_


	2. Burnt Toast

_life in moderation_

chapter 2: burnt toast

**I disclaim**

o

I'm a terrible cook. I can't boil water without messing up somehow. It's like bad karma for one of the horrible things I've done over my 21 years of life.

Doesn't matter though. Sesshou-maru usually cooks for me. Except on days like today.

Today, the bastard got sick.

I came home from my last class, only to find him sleeping on the couch, tissues and vomit-bowl nearby. His computer is still on. Though I'm tempted to read it, I don't.

There's still some sort of coldness between us.

Those words were only said, how long, two weeks ago? It's like every step I take forward in life, I'm pushed back down the whole damn staircase.

I still wonder if he said it to humour me. I wish I had seen his face. Or been able to kiss him, or something. He was behind a door. How's that for romance?

But who am I to judge... I'm not even sure if I meant it.

I move over to the slumbering man, and find myself smiling through ruby-painted lips. He looks so different when he's in bed. Sleeping, I mean.

Not that I've ever been in bed with him. And it's not that I don't want to.

But the way he is...

I shrug, and go to work wiping his face a little. He's so much less intimidating that way. I can't imagine him being a child. Would he still have unaturally long hair? I bet he was teased if he did.

Slowly his lashes flicker up, and he stares at me blankly. After blinking a few times, he has the strength to adjust himself so the blood in his arm can flow properly, as opposed to being squished under his head.

"You hab to cook," he grumbles, with the usual stuffed-up speech impediment.

"If I cook, you're going to die," I tell him curtly.

"And iv I cook, we'll bofe be sick, so go," he insists, "Make toast or sobthig, thed do your hobework."

"Yes, father."

Dropping my bag on an old chair, I proceed to look through the cupboards. Pretty near empty.

"Maybe you should get a real job, so we could by some food!" I call, though he's not that far away (it's just a small apartment).

"I said toast," he mutters again, rolling over. My, he's even more of a jerk when he's under the weather.

I put on the radio, as I pour us some juice. I work a shift at the library tonight, which isn't too bad. They favour students, so I get enough pay to keep up my share of the rent. And I get most of my homework done there. Sesshou-maru got me the job, so I should probably thank him sometime. But whatever.

"Kagura..." he groans, breaking me from my string of thoughts, "What's that sbell...?"

"What... oh, that, uh..." I look over to the smoking toaster, "Nothing."

"You're lyig."

"No shit, Sherlock." I unplug the appliance, and then proceed to watch our toast, which is now crispy brown, pop out. Somehow shutting off the electricity makes it actually do the job. How is beyond me.

I dump it on a plate, and head back over to him. He's half-asleep, and seems to be trying to remember something, or keep from screaming at me.

"Here," I say, a little softer in an effort to be kind, "Your toast."

"It's burdt."

"Aren't you Captain Obvious today."

He looks up at me strangely. "How did you dow I like it burdt?"

I resist the urge to laugh. "You _like_ burnt toast? You must be kidding, that's disgusting! I wouldn't eat that stuff if I was... well, I probably would, but that's not the point."

He sits up and reaches for the meal. I sit on the arm of the couch (he hates me for that) and look around our place. A living room/kitchen, a bathroom, and a bedroom that's mine. That's all we have, and it's poorly decorated. Sesshou-maru willingly sleeps on the pull-out couch. He's sweet, when he's not being a jerk.

He once said something about choosing to live this way. He was from a well-off family, I think, but it was torn apart. And here he is with me. Eating burnt toast on a garage sale sofa.

"How's your story going?" I venture, as he wipes some crumbs from his mouth.

"Fide."

"Anything interesting happen?"

He shrugs, reaching for his glass of juice. With pulp. I really don't like pulp, but this shit's cheaper.

Going on a whim, I slide from my place down closer to him. Pressing my body to his, I lean on his shoulder.

"What are you doig?"

"Snuggling," I reply, "And you're ruining it."

He begins to speak again, but I place a finger to his lips. He raises an eyebrow, provoked.

"I know I'll get sick or whatever the Hell you were going to say," I continue, "But I don't give a damn."

Sighing, he wraps an arm around me and closes his eyes again. I pray he doesn't vomit on me. I already had a shower this morning.

I refuse to close my eyes, knowing I have to leave in about ten minutes. Just ten minutes spent here with him.

That's all I really wanted.

It passes so quickly it's amazing. The clock rings 6:00, and I struggle from his grasp. Subconciously he still holds onto me, murmuring again.

"Don't..."

"Ssshhh."

I stand, moving slowly for the door. Grabbing my coat and bag, I take one last look at him. I haven't kissed him in weeks, and I want to more than ever. Most girls would consider this relationship dysfunctional. I think it's better than parties and sex. Maybe not sex, sometimes, but parties definitely. Parties are fun until you get wasted or stoned. Then it either all goes away, or is painfully unreal.

I can't imagine hm at a party anyways.

"Good-bye," I'm able to whisper as I close the door as quietly as it'll go. I don't think he stirs, which is good. I want him to cook for me tommorow.

end of chapter 2  



	3. Starless Nights and Phone Calls

_life in moderation_

chapter 3: starless nights and phone calls

Warning: If you're a heavy religious person, please don't get offended by some statements made.

Disclaimer: Nope.

o

The roar of a siren in the distant breaks through the frozen air, along with the sounds of the city. So far below me. Annoying people, worrying only about themselves.

Just like how I used to be.

Am I really all that different?

I lean back against the cold pavement, feeling it's grainy surface against my bare arms as I rest my head on them. The nipping wind sweeps through, marking the coming of autumn. In school, they told us this means bright coloured trees, and geese flying south. Not here. Not in this city, anyways.

I'm trapped by this damned concrete.

This is the only place you can feel the wind at it's best. In the streets, it's an annoyance. Here, it's wonderful. It's like someone without a friend. Lonely.

I used to be lonely.

But now, I can't remember what lonely is.

Reaching up a hand, I pretend to grasp the sky. It's black, this time of night. Plain black, with tinges of blue and grey. There aren't even any stars. They've been drowned out by office windows and neon signs advertising strip clubs, or large billboards covered in scantily clad models. Our mortal stars outshine those of nature, I suppose.

I remember I once wanted a glamorous life. To be famous, or some shit like that.

It was a dream. We all had dreams. Some people wanted to be astronuats, or firefighters, or high social status like I did. We never got it though. Well, maybe some of the bastards called 'classmates' did, but not me.

I figured happiness was beyond me by the time I'd reached high school. I found out I was adopted. My nut-case father had lied to me all that time. You'd think I'd have figured it out, but no. My sister and I were just strangers. As if there weren't enough already.

I called her 'sister', still. Even though she was as distant as those stars. She hardly spoke to anyone. It was all I could do not to let myself go insane.

Things got worse. I experimented with drugs. I ran away for days at a time, sometimes weeks. I wanted my life to end, and wanted to bring everyone down with me. I'd pretend to love someone, if only to hurt them. And then I'd hurt myself. Almost as much as my 'father' did.

Finally I just left, with all the money I could take. I made friends in this city. But they weren't really friends. Just faces I used for my own benefit.

I slept around. I stole from people, and I laughed at them once I was done.

That was me.

It was. But not anymore.

"Kagura."

I don't take my gaze from the limitless sky. Inhaling, I feel the air fill my lungs, cold and awake. That life seems so distant, I can't remember I even had it once. The scars on my back, from my 'father', have nearly healed now, 2 years later.

Shoes clack against the ground beside me, sending faint vibrations. He stands near, his light shadow from the city lights cast down on me.

I shiver. Should've brought out a jacket or something.

I take out my one arm, and place it beside me. Slowly, I pat the ground.

"Lie with me." I murmur to him. His golden eyes gaze down, silvery hairs tossed in the breeze.

"Why?"

"Just come."

He sighs. But slowly he lowers himself to sit beside me. I feel his hands rest on shoulders, and I feel sexy. Which is wierd and stupid. I think that wearing a tube top was maybe the wrong choice for today. He might think I'm a whore or something.

But the strangest thing is, I care whether he cares.

He never takes me out for dinner. We went to a movie once. And then discussed the movie over salad (he's all vegetarian and that).

It's not that we avoid eachother. We just don't go out of our way.

I feel his hands move down, coming around my stomach, and gently they lift. He brings me to sit, as if I'm some over-sized doll. And I sit in his lap, and tilt my head back to look at him.

I wish there were stars. Then I could lie, and say I was looking at them.

"So what sin did I commit to be awarded with your superior presence?" I say through numb lips, and finally the amount of sleep I've been missing begins to catch up with me. He rests his chin on my head, mouth set firm.

I never thought I'd say it, but I'm in love with a man whose prettier than me.

I laugh under my breath, and he glances downwards.

"Something funny?"

"Maybe."

I twist around, so I can actually see him. This feels like a fairly compromising position. In such a situation, one would usually feel either awkward, or turned on.

I'm just sorta happy. Like I'm watching it from somewhere, or reading it. Like it's a memory I'm fond of. Life has become less real.

"No sin," he tells me slowly, as if he's finally found the time to answer my question. "I'm Athiest. Im don't believe there's such a thing as sin."

"Well, what then?"

"I just missed you."

"Is that so?"

"Maybe."

I smirk. He's toying with me again, which is just fine. He looks past me, while I look straight at him. His face is so feminin, I feel the need to laugh again.

I also feel the need to kiss him.

And I would wish for it, but there are no stars.

But who the Hell needs wishes, anyways!

I lean in and press my lips to his. He doesn't respond right away, only when I deepen the feathery contact. His lips are so smooth. Sometimes I think he's actually an angel of some sort. But angels aren't usually jerks.

I don't think angels are real anyways. If there are, they aren't doing their jobs good enough. Just look at the state of the world. Why don't they have a convention down there in Africa? I'm sure it'd be appreciated.

I pull away, watching him open his eyes. The way his expression can be blank, and emotional at the same time is scary.

He scares me.

But I think that makes me love him even more.

Another siren cries. I'm vaguely aware of a plane passing over us, so mucher higher, yet I'm still more free than it. Sesshou-maru has that effect on me.

I kiss his nose, and am able to draw a smile from him, as he takes a deep, romantic breath. He pulls me tighter to him, hands resting on my back, exposed halfway by the tube top (scars mostly covered, though). I like the top, actually, it's black, with red stripes, and a tie in front. Whorish. But that's me.

I never dress up for him. I wonder what he'd do, if I did.

There's no one to see us here, but the clouds. And still, I don't move. I want to tell him again, how much I love him, and how much he means to me. How I adore his stupid habits, and that I even liked it when he got sick a few days ago, and I was able to take care of him.

All I can muster is his name, "Sesshou-maru...", as I bury my face in his chest. He smells like our apartment does.

When I was a kid, I wanted to live in a big house by the ocean. I'd watch the sun set every night from my balcony, and we would make chocolate fondue. I'd eat it with my large family and friends, and we'd laugh and maybe even play cards.

Sesshou-maru carries me back down to our apartment, which is cruddy, and will never, ever see the ocean. On the table, there's chocolate fondue. He sets me down on a chair, and proceeds to sit beside me. We share the fondue. There's not much talking or laughing. I tell him about my crap-tactular day. He nods, and adds some things.

We have no cards. So we don't play. It's not as fun with only two.

On the radio, classical music plays. They also describe it dramatically, and say a bunch of names from other languages.

"Why do we listen to this crap?" I mumble through a mouthful of kiwi and pine-apple.

"Radio's busted." he says, after swallowing.

"That sucks," I comment, and reach my toothpick for the last piece of cantalope. He does the same.

I quickly jab it, cover it in chocolate, and stuff it into his mouth. I have a feeling we could have a fondue fight, only that would probably result in burns and toothpick wounds. Which would be fun, but...

He begins to clean up, still chewing the cantalope. As he walks by, he pushes the button on the phone, so we can listen to our messages. He was out today. I think he's actually getting a job now, since his funds from the last books have begun to run out. He made them last for a long time, though...

"Hey, this is Meiko calling for Kagura! You left your jacket at the library again. Pick it up next shift, kay? Bye!"

I roll my eyes at her perky-ness. No clue how she can have so much energy... I reach for another piece of apple, as the next message begins to play.

"Hello, Kagura. It's been a while."

"Who the Hell-" I begin to mutter, but Sesshou-maru shushes me.

"In case you've forgotten," the message continues, "This is you're fiance. Kagewaki."

My heart practically stops.

Oh, shit.

end chapter 3


	4. Inhale, Exhale Close Your Eyes

_life in moderation_

chapter 4: Inhale, Exhale, Close Your Eyes

**Disclaimer:** I don't have much money. If you sue me you'll get Canadian money. Not all that appealing, eh?

o

I've never really seen Sesshou-maru get angry. In the first few months I knew him, I thought he was incapable of showing emotion. Little by little, I came to doubt that.

But tonight, he's angry.

"Hello, Kagura. It's been a while. In case you've forgotten, this is your fiance. Kagewaki."

I'm frozen. My hands shake, as I drop the toothpick with the chocolate smothered fruit in my hand to the floor.

"I've missed you."

My stomach begins to churn, and I feel acid leap to my throat. It burns, and tastes awful, but I cannot swallow.

"I know we had some misunderstandings. So please, call me back. My number is-"

The message stops, as Sesshou-maru pushes the button on the phone. His back is to me, and I can see his shoulders rise in breath. Muscles tense and taught, his movement is slow, as if resisting to break the phone.

He must hate me now. I wouldn't blame him at all.

I just didn't want to remember. I wanted to erase my past. I thought if I didn't think about it for logn enough, maybe it would go away.

Obviously it didn't.

I stay still, the noises of vehicles in the streets, and music blaring from the apartment above are all the noise to hear. It's unnerving. I almost vomit, but am able to push it back down. Hurts even worse.

I'm pretty sure he hates me now. I deserve it.

"Kagura."

He speaks my name slowly, and I wince. I blink a few times, almost passing out. Just a minute ago I was fine. Now I'm on the verge of collapsing. Why! I'm not weak! I can deal with this!

"Who was that?" he whispers.

I can't muster anything, voice deplete. Damn...

"Kagura?"

"H-hai..." I choke, my hands clutching my knees tight. I'm so stupid... why can't I say anything?

Slowly he turns around, footsteps over the linolium on the floor. I look down, my vision blurred by tears. I want to scream at myself, hurt myself for it. I don't cry, not in front of anyone. Especially not Sesshou-maru. I hadn't cried in front of anyone since I was... just thirteen...

Another disgusting memory, and I close my eyes fully.

He hates me.

He hates me!

The phone rings again. He reaches over and picks up, then slams it down again. It rattles a little, he's gripping it so tightly.

"Kagura..."

Is he going to say anything besides my name?

"Look at me."

I don't want to. I push my eyes further closed, and it begins to hurt. It's like I was numb before. And now I'm melting.

His fingers touch my cheek, very lightly, and I draw in my breath. I hear him breathing, and I hear my heart pounding, straining. I feel his breath touch my face, and the trails left by the tears goes cold. But he's not yelling at me, like I thought he would be... Like he should be.

Slowly his thumb fumbles over my closed eyelid, sticky with remains of cheap-ass make-up. The red splotches on my vision fade, and I feel another hand on my shoulder. Smooth lips carress my forehead, and my mouth turns in confusion.

As he comes away, I find my eyes open, staring into the tear-blurred image of him. I look up at him, hopeless and empty. My mouth begins moving, trying to make sound, but I can't. Golden eyes catch me, warmth under the coldness usually displayed.

"Come on," he mumbles, "It's late. You should go to bed."

I don't move. I'm beginning to think I'm paralyzed or something.

He lowers his head a little. This would be the point when most would smile and give me a kiss. Not Sesshou-maru. I'm not expecting it, no, not after knowing him this long. He just looks at me, breathing slow. Tantalized.

In the worst of my moments... he can't seem to fall apart...

"I know you don't have school tommorow," he tells me, "But really..."

Is this... some sort of kindness from him?

Another loud ring. His muscles tense up, as he picks up the phone again. He doesn't take shit from people, and I love him for that. Classy about it, too. He puts it down, then, down on his knees, unplugs it. No more phone calls tonight, I guess.

He sighs, and returns to me. It's more than I can bear... I never wanted to be weak. I'm not weak, I just...

Oh, fuck it all!

With a loud sob, I find myself against him, my face pressed into his navy T-shirt. His arms pull me to him, as slowly I'm lifted from the chair. He carries me, still crying hysterically to the bedroom. He lays me down, then still holding me, pulls the sheets over us. Just plain white cotton. A few stains from make-up and markers.

I take time to breath, insanity relinquishing just a little. I'm able to calm myself a little more. And for a minute, my mind catches up to me.

We're in the same bed.

Under the same sheets.

At night.

Damn, I wish I had better timing!

He doesn't ask me about Kagewaki, or ask me anything for that matter. He just rests his head beside mine, and strokes my back gently. He touches my hair, and undoes it from the cheap elastic holding it up. His warmth is all I have, and I cling to him desperately as the tears leak out still.

I'm twenty-one now, twenty-two in a few months. That's nearly nine years worth of tears flowing down my face. I guess it was only a matter of time. It caught up to me... I thought I could outrun it.

I'm still crying, but not as ashamed. I swallow, giving into need of breath, and look into him. He seems half-asleep, but stares at me still.

"I..."

"Tell me in the morning." he mumbles. Angrily, I grab at his hair, smooth and smelling of fruit. I'd accuse him of being gay, but... Again, I find myself wondering about his past. Who was he? And what made him so... cold?

"You're going to listen," I hiss, "Or I'm pulling out your precious hair."

Why do I always do stupid things?

His expression doesn't change, his hands still resting on my spine. With a slight nod, I let go, tilting back my head to see the wall (no headboard, can't sleep with those, and it's not a priority on our budget). Sighing, I muster the words that haunt me.

"Kagewaki Hitomi," the name is unpleasant in my mouth, like to the fondue-vomit of a few minutes ago, "Was my fiance. That was all of two years ago. Two... two goddamned years..."

I shake my head. Bitterly, the scenes in my head remain in full sound and colour. Whomever said repression and brain-washing one's self worked was a lying bastard.

"He... he was going to help me, I think. I'm not sure, but we dated for a while. A long while. The bastard... Got me drunk, and for some reason, I agreed to marry him. I thought he'd get me away..."

I see his face. Alike to my father's, you would think the two were brothers. I see him smiling at me. I see him pushing the ring onto my finger, through my deliruim and iniebriation. I see him... I feel him over me... pushing into me...

"Oh God!"

My hands clutch my head tight, trembling furiously. The voice of the man holding me whispers again, "I can wait until morning", but I refuse.

"No, it has to be now. It won't go away..."

Another deep breath, lungs overflowing.

"One day... One day I left him. Early morning. I took all his money, and all I had, and I disappeared. I had quite a bit of cash then, so I traveled. City to city. Bed to bed. Til you found me."

The words linger a while before settling.

"There's more," he says. Damn, am I that transparent?

I close my mouth, and let the last tear roll down. Of course there was more. There was so much more. More than I ever realized myself. Now that it's out... I feel a little more vulnerable. Naked. But it's alright, I guess.

"That can wait for morning." I nestle into him, sighing. The nightly zephyr rattles our window, howling in lament. I shut out all sound, except for us, breathing, heartbeats, longing. My blood pounds. I can feel my skin against his. Not exactly in a sensual way. In a way of closeness... affection... why do I try to put words on something that has no words? There really aren't any words for anything, not anymore!

Maybe that's why he's so quiet. He uses up all his words in his books. And a few saved for me. Or maybe he just knows that words don't do much in real life besides get you into deeper shit-holes.

These thoughts just wind around my mind, digging in.

I can forget it, can't I? I can let go?

Everything will be forgotten eventually. It's how you spend that times that makes it worthwhile.

"Oyasumi." he whispers. I remain silent. Sometimes, we have to play the other's game. He catches on, and traces lines on my bicep, smoothly. It's like more torture. My second wind died a few minutes ago, sleep beckons, and yet I'm caught between staying awake all night with him or sleeping until noon just for the Hell of it.

The paths his touch makes on my skin plunge down further, fingers weaving through mine. An innocent gesture, yet an ever so alluring one. But my heart is too broken right now, and I thank him. Most men, from what I've known of them, would try and take advantage of me...

Sesshou-maru's different. He's a smart-ass, and pissy, and so completely beyond me. And he's amazing, peculiar... dare I say it, sexy. Nothing I ever thought I'd want in a man. But mear wanting doesn't get you much, so I've found.

He doesn't say another word. Soon his breathing slows, and I count the seconds between each.

1... 2... 3... 4...

Inhale.

4... 3... 2... 1...

Exhale.

1... 2... 3... 4...

Inhale.

I watch him for a while. And then I find myself asleep as well.

Ah well. Least I got to kiss him tonight. Despite all the shit in my head.

And you know, technically... I'm sleeping with him.

end of chapter 4


	5. Empty Streets Filled With People

_life in moderation_

chapter 5: empty streets filled with people

**Disclaimer**: Don't own.

o

_Sesshou-maru_

Footsteps; pacing round the room. Bare feet on a messy floor. Hangers, books, jab into my naked soles, but I say nothing.

She sleeps.

Quivering every now and then. Mumbling every now and then.

She says my name. She says my name in her sleep, and I'm not sure what to make of it at all.

Do I really care for this stray? Even more, does she care for me? I didn't want her to. I wanted to salvage what remained of her innocence, and send her on her way after giving her a meal and a decent start. But all that changed, so much.

No one knowsall that muchabout me here. Not even her. And in turn, she shields herself from me. Maybe it's that we're both running away. Maybe we don't want the other to know.

I don't trust. Trust is for fools.

And maybe, I'm the biggest fool of all.

Sitting down on the bed once more, I sigh. The window dimly alights this room that was once mine. I barely used it anyways... Now it's hers. Ours?

I stretch my fingers, weary from typing. A few hours ago, I found myself awake, beside her. Clothed, mind you. And I had to write. Something in me was possessed, making me turn on the computer and open my file, only a can of beer as company. A vile drink, but addicting.

Finally, my hands were cramped and the clock read 5:00. And I have work tommorow/today, for humanity demands money. And the 'easy life' I could've had was given up. Was destroyed, and only two remain. Myself. And him.

I pull the covers over us, and she leans into me comfortabley. I wrap my arms around her, and hold her to me.

What a fool...

o

_Kagura_

This morning is so quiet it makes my head hurt. And there's only myself to make conversation, since the bastard slept in. I wish we had a cat or something. But cats cost money, money we don't have. Doesn't matter though. Even if we did have money, what would we do with it? I'm not one for shopping, and neither is Sesshou-maru, as far as I know. And it's not like I need new clothes.

That reminds me... I am never going to sleep in a tube top again. When I woke up, guess where it was? Not where it was supposed to be, that's for sure! Waking up with your boobs pressed into someone like that is a little painful. It's not like we had sex. God, there's something I am not getting into. Has he even had sex? Does he want to have sex with me? Why am I asking!

Well, at least he was asleep when it happenned (nothing happened!). Which is unlike him...

It's unlike me too, what I'm going to do. 'When the going gets tough, the tough get going', what kind of a motto is that! Sometimes, you just have to face things!

Sipping a chipped mug of coffee, my eyes wander to our phone. His phone. I dunno. I reach my hand from where it rested on the counter around to the caller history. He left... he left 5 messages yesterday. The nauseous feeling comes into me again, but I ignore it, snatching up the reciever.

I dial his number into the vastness that is dial tone. And it rings.

No turning back now, no. I'll get through it. I got through Naraku, didn't I? I still haven't healed, but I got through it. I have a future. I escaped.

Because sometimes you can't stand and fight.

"Hello Kagura."

Dammit! I should've had enough sense to make an anonymous call! On the verge of hitting my head on the cupboard, I respond.

"Hitomi."

"I thought we were past our last name familiarities... I was quite sure, in fact."

Biting my lip to keep from cursing, I slam down my coffee cup, lowering my voice.

"Your address."

I can practically hear him smirking. The bastard. His address, his address... he gives it to me, and I quickly write it down on some scrap paper. I stick it in my bra for safe keeping, and open my mouth to end the call.

"Kagura."

Shit!

I glance over to the hallway, wherein Sesshou-maru stands. His hair is messy and tangled, a slight mess. Well well well, he's human after all. It's usually washed and combed before I even get up.

Thank fast, think fast, think fast!

"Thanks Meiko," I say in morning-voice (groggy, uninterested), "I'll be over soon."

"Indeed you will, my Kagura."

I hang up the phone, trying to mask my disgust with Hitomi Kagewaki's words. Then I turn back to Sesshou-maru. He eyes me as I sip my coffee again, yawning afterwards.

He doesn't ask who called. He moves over to the cupboard, takes out some bread, and puts it in the toaster.

"I'm going over to the library," I say, grabbing the peanut-butter, "Meiko found that book I'd been looking for. For my essay."

He ignores me, looking around for a clean butter-knife.

"And I need to go shopping."

"For what?"

Look who decided to use his vocal chords. Let's give him a medal.

"Tampons."

He goes rigid even as the word is said. Oh well. I could've said something worse. Condoms, birth control. I stifle a laugh, imagining his face. I'll use those next time.

"Fine," he mutters, passing me some toast. In turn, I give him coffee. Then, stuffing the piece in my mouth, I head for my room.

10 minutes later, after a change of clothing, grooming, and rifling through my dresser for some money, I find myself at the door, still hesitant. Sesshou-maru finishes his coffee, doing nothing to heal the silence.

"I might be gone a while," I tell him, a little softer than my usual tone, "Don't worry about me."

He puts his cup in the sink and nods to me. "That doesn't mean I won't."

"I know."

Do I?

More uncomfortable silence. Before it was welcome. But this morning... I find myself doubting my lying skills.

Sesshou-maru grabs my jacket from where I left it from the couch. His movements are subtle, yet graceful. The way his hand moves, smoothly, a little flick at the end of each movement.

Maybe angels get bed-head.

I take the jacket, feeling my cheeks grow hot. He helps me put it on, and I curse my clumsy self. God, it's only 8:00! His arms near around me, he leans down, and I feel him kiss the back of my neck, where the hair is pulled up into a short ponytail.

Damn him...

"Make sure you come back," he mutters as he moves away, "You haven't paid your share of the rent yet."

Again, damn him.

The streets are busy, as people race for work, or school, or both, or neither. I fish the scrap out of my bra and squint at my writing. Nearly half-way across this mess called a city. Muck hangs to my jeans as I walk, unpleasant as the sound. A homeless girl sleeps in the slush.

I never once slept in slush. Even if I was dead tired, and had no money, I kept searching. I would not stoop to that. I wouldn't let myself. Kagura the brave wandering warrior queen. Like a gale, untamed and restless. Never stayed in one place for too long before this. Always left before things could fall apart around me.

When the going gets tough...

I reach in my pocket for change. It's not like me to be generous, but maybe I'm someone else this morning. I shake her, and she wakes up. This girl can't be more than fourteen! And yet, I'd bet my heart that she's lost her virginity, by force or money, and that she's no stranger to pot either. I can smell it on her. My nostrils sting as I shove the money into her hand.

"Make something of yourself," is all I can muster in form of a snarl, before walking away.

I bet that girl think no one cares about her. And I bet people do. But maybe I'm wrong.

My thoughs follow me, as I walk. I don't want to pay for the bus. I like walking better.

I hope I'm not gone too long.

Finally, I find myself in front of another apartment. Only these ones are nice. Hitomi lives here. Has he spent all this time tracking me? Has he told my father?

Suddenly, I don't know the answer to anything. Myself, my past. I don't even know what's going on between Sesshou-maru and I. We're not really dating, as I've said before. We're not having sex, we kiss... but...

I don't know. I'm in a void of emptiness. I wonder if this is what Kanna felt like all the time. That's how she looked to me, anyways. Just staring, watching, she learned to cope by not doing anything. By letting herself not feel.

And I don't even know if I wish I could've become like that.

Swallowing fear and dignity alike, I head away from the crowd, and into the building. I find his number, and buzz up.

"Hello, Kagura."

end chapter 5


	6. remnants of the myself that used to be

_life in moderation_

chapter 6: remnants of the myself that used to be

**AN:** I'm amazed at how many reviews this has! Wow, thank you all! (huggles)

**Disclaimer**: Do not own.

o

This walk has to be one of the longest I've taken in my entire life. It's not really a long way, though he does live on the tenth floor, and I'm taking the stairs. No, I'm making it long. Stepping slowly, watching my feet. Stopping to look out a window and to collect my thoughts again. It doesn't matter. In a few seconds, they just explode, scattering all over the place once more. Like marbles, rolling everywhere. And I'm just a child, I chase after them.

I never had much fun as a child. Maybe I made up for it with all my boozing, smoking and fucking later on in life. 'Life screwed me over, so why shouldn't I screw it!' I told myself each day. I guess life figured out I wasn't gonna cave, and gave me a second chance. Or I'm just a lucky bitch. Either one is fine with me.

I arrive at another landing, another window. It's a nice clean window, just like everything else here. Hiding so many lies behind a screen of organization. No matter how much you scrub your windows, some dirt still doesn't come off. Being clean doesn't necessarily make you happy, does it?

Through the pane, I can vaguely see our ratty apartment building. I can see the library, and my college, and the high school down the street. I always hated school. I didn't see the point. I don't think I use any of that shit they taught me. Not that I was doing all to well. Dazed by everything they were cramming down my throat, I just stopped listening. I wish I could do that now. Every noise seems amplified, my head pounding. I'm kinda out of it, as if this is a dream.

I hope it is.

I lean my forehead against the glass, and watch people. I'm stalling. I don't want to go up there. I just want to finish this whole thing, and get it out of me. You can't erase your past, but you can damn well try!

One more flight. Then I'm on his floor. The fact that I'm even close to the bastard makes my skin crawl. Like a whole army of centipedes are underneath it, moving as my muscles, lines of tiny ants my veins. I'm a bug girl. But no one bugs me. Wow. I'm so out of it, I'm thoroughly insane. I want to laugh. I feel as if I had one too many drinks, only without the nausea.

One more stair, and I'm at his floor.

I walk up this stair without hesitation, shoes scuffing the floor. I will not go back without this finished. I'm not going to let Kagewaki win. I'll kill him if I have to, to get my way. I start down the hall, looking hard at the wall at the other end. I glance at the numbers on the doors.

123... 125...

A woman walks past me, head down, coat done up tight. My mind is making distractions. Every little thing, it wants to peer at. Anything to keep me here, not in there.

127...

My feet are beginning to hurt. I think I need new shoes.

129.

This door. Painted chipped a little near the corners, the numbers shiny in brass. Behind this door. My ex-fiance, Kagewaki, is waiting for me. He was watching me out the window. Like a vulture. Like a stalker. I could bring the police, but they'd only fuck things up more. And then I'd have other people out to get me...

He must be about twenty-nine now. I was eighteen, I think, when we first met, and he was twenty-five. I feel whorish just thinking about this. I didn't much care back then. Shows how much has happened... have I really changed?

Making a fist, I knock lightly. The sound is empty.

Maybe he's not home. Let's change that, I pray he's not home.

"Come in."

Did I mention how much life hates me?

o

Book upon book, all stacked imperfectly, different sizes, colours and smells. Every book has a smell. Every poem has a sound. Every day has it's own photograph. We're lucky we work in the library, there's a park right behind us that we can see through the windows. The leaves are falling, like a firestorm. I wish I could go out and play in them, but I'm too old for that.

"Meiko-chan..." I look up to see Ms. Higurashi. Her glasses are always falling down, revealing her bright chestnut eyes. She's pretty nice, I guess. She lets me and Kagura get our schoolwork done while we're here, and pays us well. She inherited this libary from her husband's parents, after they passed away.

"Um, yes, Higurashi-san?"

"Have you seen Kagura today?"

"She doesn't usually work Saturdays," I look up from the computer, "But I left her a message last night to come get her jacket. It's that nice black one, with the star buttons... But I don't think she would've come in, she usually sleeps later than this."

Ms. Higurashi looks at her fingernails as if she wants to bite them. "I guess I'm just paranoid. But I have this bad feeling... Maybe I've been listening to one too many of Dad's horror stories. Heh."

She picks up a stack of books to shelf, and begins to head off, but looks cheerily back to me.

"Hey, why don't you take a break? Kagome should go out and get some exercize, too. She's reading downstairs. The rake's in the storage closet."

o

I reach for the door handle, shiny and gleaming. It's cold to touch, my sweat lingering on it's surface. It turns easily, like butter, and it opens steadily without creaking, revealing a decent apartment. A nice living room with a TV and large window, a kitchen to my right...

There he is, in the doorway of the hall.

That's definitely him.

And he looks at me.

"My Kagura."

"I'm not yours, and I never was," I hiss, nails digging into me palms as I clench my fists. He gives me his heavy stare. It's hard to read.

"I think you're wrong, Kagura. I think you have been mine... all along."

If you were seeing him for the first time, it would be hard to believe he's such a monster. He looks respectable, shoulder length black hair tied back in a ponytail, and wavy. He can give an honest smile, though he is a little pale. A blue-striped button-up shirt covers his chest, paired with black slacks and bare feet. What, did he think I would trust him if he dressed nicely?

"That's disgusting," I mutter, and he raises an eyebrow.

"You should shut the door. I don't want my neighbours to become alarmed," He saunters over to the table in the living room and sits down, then clasps his hands, his fingers playing a game with themselves.

"How long have you been here?" I ask, refusing to surrender my escape.

"A while. It's Tokyo, my Kagura, a lot of people live here."

"Stop calling me that!" I can't stand his mouth around my name, the way his lips mold it. 'My Kagura'. I belong to no one but myself.

"Okay. I won't call you 'my Kagura'," he watches me flinch, "If you close the door."

"You're a sick bastard," I tell him, as I reach behind me. Finally I find the doorknob, and turn it as the door closes, the clicking sound slow and eventual. His eyes, blood-shot brown, watch my every move. I am his prey. Never turn your back on the predator. I tell myself I havn't given him power by closing the door. I've showed him that I'm not afraid.

His eyes never leave me. My heart beats faster. He's trying to scare me, but I won't be scared. I have somewhere to go after this. I'm not an abused, niave child anymore. I won't open my body for anyone, unless I want to. I will not let him hurt me.

And despite these thoughts... I feel myself slide.

Maybe I should've asked Sesshou-maru to come. He'd probably say no anyways. It's not his problem. He'd call me weak. Or he might just walk away. He'd write in his stupid book, how weak I was. He's writing about me... does that mean me, myself, or... a person like me, or a person inspired by me or-

"What are you thinking about?"

I'd taken my eyes off him... He stands over me now, almost as tall as Sesshou-maru would've been. One arm holds the door shut above my head, the other hangs by his side, a weapon. I remember I have a knife, and pepper-spray in my purse. Just a small blade, but I thought it would do.

"Nothing," I answer him.

"Why don't you take off your shoes and coat?" he asks.

"I didn't think I would be staying long," No. What I was going to do was tell him to fuck off, and go back home. I'd write my essay. I'd get Sesshou-maru to edit my work when he got home from work. I'd eat dinner and go to sleep.

That was what was _supposed _to happen.

"I doubt you'll be leaving soon," he says, "We have so much catching up to do."

And this is what's happening.

I move to the side, and cross my arms. He continues to observe me.

"Tell me, who was that man with you?"

"When?"

"This morning. Are you still a whore?" he says the words so casually, you would think they were unoffensive, that he wasn't accusing me of being a prostitute.

"He's my boyfriend," I state.

"Oh really?"

I hate Hitomi when he's like this. Well, especially when he's like this. You can't beat him at words. I just get frustrated. He doesn't slip up, or so he makes you believe. He could have many women, and yet he's coming after me. I can guess why too. It's more fun for him.

"Would you like anything?" he moves back to the kitchen, "Or have you eaten already?"

"How stupid do you think I am?"

He opens the cupboard and gives me that look.

"Well, you're here. Aren't you?"

o

"Nishino-san! Key, Nishino-san! Please stop, I can't run in these shoes!"

I do stop, if only to shut up the voice as she comes to a halt in front of me, panting. She looks up, her cheeks rosy and cold. I think she's a little scared of me. Or else, judging from her personality, she'd call me 'Sesshou-chan' or something. Ignorant wench.

"Nishino-san," she gasps, tucking a piece of short brown hair behind her ear, "Do you know... where Kagura... is?"

Well, I was right. Kagura was lying.

"No," I say coldly.

"Meiko-chan!" a girl's voice called from where she stood beside a pile of leaves, a colourful hat atop her head, "Who are you talking to?"

"Come over here, Kagome-chan," Meiko laughs, "Watch your step. It's slippery!"

Meiko. I've met her once or twice. She's the kind of person who can laugh like that. Freely. They can overlook things other people see. Overlook flaws and pain. Oblivious fools. Or perhaps they've been 'saved'.

This 'Kagome' shuffles through the leaves, hands stuffed in her pockets. Her scarf is wrapped tightly around her neck. It's a wonder she hasn't suffocated. The leaves end abruptly and there is a space of muck and cracked ice before you get to the sidewalk. She tiptoes carefully across it, black ponytail bouncing along with her step.

"Kagome-chan, this is Nishino Sesshou-maru."

She smiles up at me, blushing a little. Not afraid though. Even at her age, as I'm guessing she's twelve, she has a childlike niavete. These days, kids smoke and sell their bodies when they're that old. She seems to have been ostracized of that. And she doesn't know it. Seems the type of girl who lives an untainted life. Life or lie.

"Hi," she says.

A pause.

"I like your coat."

"Thank you."

Conversing with children is awkward.

"You look like someone I know..." she mumbles, more to herself. Meiko tilts back her head, and laughs again, though I don't know why. I wonder how she's able to do that. Maybe she's just plain lost it. Her striped scarf is lifted a little in the wind, and she shoves her mitted hands into the pockets of her carrot-orange coat.

"Well, when you see Kagura again, tell her we've got her jacket."

"Yes, we got your message."

Her eyes light up with knowledge. "So you are together? She hardly says anything about it."

"Sort of."

What other answer is there? I pause.

"Yes."

'Yes, yes, I love her.' a voice inside me whispers. It's become so annoying lately. Yes, I told her I love her. But what does that even mean?

"I won't keep you any longer," the young woman says, starting back into their palace of firey leaves, "I'll see ya around!"

Kagome turns and waves to me. Such a peculiar girl. Acts as if she's eight. But life doesn't wait for you. It continues on relentlessly at it's own pace, no room for mistake or regret. And to that girl, there is no mistake, no second thoughts. No sadness.

I wish Kagura could be a child like that. But even as a child, I bet she was lonely.

o

He stirs his tea. Circular motion, the water rifting and making waves against the sides of his cup.

"So," he says casually, "Which topic is first on our agenda?"

My eyes downcast, I mutter something.

"Could you repeat that? I don't think I heard..."

"My father."

Hitomi stops stirring and lifts the tea to his lips. No sugar, no milk. Must be bitter.

"Your father..."

end of chapter 6


	7. Red in Black Lace

_life in moderation_

Chapter 7: Red in Black Lace

OooOo 

His walls are frickin' lavender.

I sit at the table, while he leans on the counter, sipping his tea like the Queen of frickin' England, and you know what colour his walls are? Lavender. Not violet, or any other colour of purple. They're lavender. I snicker quietly, running my hand across the top of the table lightly.

"Something funny?" he asks blandly, making me laugh harder. Damn! He waits until I quiet down, and then we resume our little chat. The kitchen is large, and his apartment rather empty, so any sound echoes just slightly. I've always wanted to be in a cave, and scream, and hear my voice echo forever, away from me, until it was just a whisper.

"Does he know I'm here?" I ask.

"Who?"

"You know damn well who."

"No," he sipped his tea, out of hig mug. You don't drink tea in a mug, you drink it out of a cup. Coffee comes in mugs. It's one of those unspoken rules.

"Well, where is he now?"

"Still in Kyoto, I'd imagine."

Yeah, we lived in Kyoto before. Not that I liked the place all that much. Too much of reliving former glory. Some people don't know how to move on. The festivals were fun though, I guess. And there were some nice girls... emphasize 'were'. Until they reached about sixth grade and thought they were 'popular'. I wasn't up to caring. No, I was too busy taking abuse at home to care...

"My sister?"

He gives a smug smile. "Which one?"

I roll my eyes as if I'm twelve. "Kanna. She's seventeen now."

"With your father still, I suppose," Geez, he's being such a well of information today, "Unless she's run away. Or died. Or something to that effect."

He knows very well the many ways of 'dying' when you're associated with people like my father...

"Are you going to tell him?" I hear my voice rise, the edge becoming sharper.

"That depends," he puts his mug in the sink, the sound metallic and empty.

"On what?"

"What you want, of course." He says it with such a straight face, I want to vomit.

"Bullshit."

"You know yourself, how tough this world can be," he stares me in the eye, and a strange feeling of nausea rises in me, "You're reckless, Kagura, you could be killed in an instant. But there are powerful people, like myself, and your father. And sometimes these sort of people can make things easier."

"What's he offering you?" I spit, standing up. The chair screeches against the floor, but he doesn't even flinch. This is like in a movie, and I'm the daughter of the mafia, just trying to get out and have a nice life with her boyfriend. Bang! Here comes her evil ex-fiance, who wants her back at any cost! Cue gun fights and sappy romance scenes, bad gore and a too-happy-to-be-real ending.

"I want you to marry me."

Right on cue, Hitomi.

"We could patch things up with your father," he continues, almost sincerely, "Live in a big house, by the ocean. You could have anything you want, Kagura."

"No."

He raises an eyebrow to this. "Why not?"

"Are you kidding me? You're practically quoting a fucking movie!" I'm on the end of my rope, so high above everything, just swinging, "I'm not going to hand myself over, like a possession, to you of all people! Really, Hitomi, I though you would know better! I hate you! I hate you for what happened!"

"You blame me for who you are, is that it?" he asks, "For being a whore?"

"Shut the Hell up..." I hiss, ready to bolt. He takes one step, and my muscles tighten. Should I be afraid? I think I am. My heart is beating fast, as if I'm a hummingbird. He's always had eyes that scare me. They possess you. Something in them, while he stares at me, it leaks into me. Maybe this makes me a little afraid. But I guess I have right to be. Even though I gave up being afraid a long time ago.

"I came here to clear things up," I say firmly, "That's it. Now, if you don't have anything more to say, I'm going to go home, and you will never speak to me again. Do you uinderstand me?"

He takes yet another step forward. I take one back to even things out.

"Naraku was right," he whispers then, admist the rumble of the trucks driving down the street beside and below us and the dripping of the faucet.

"You are more beautiful when you squirm in daylight."

"Shut the Hell up!" I suppose my lines are on cue as well... according to script, probably. He knew I wouldn't give in, so he smirks.

"Kagura, I will be the one to break you..."

OooOo

Through the window in the back, I can see the leaves, a bright palette of autumn. It'll be Hallowe'en soon. I hope Kagome will be going trick-or-treating this year again. Some kids her age think they're too cool. They're growing up far too fast! When I was twelve, I wasn't thinking about getting a boyfriend, or the things that went along with it. I don't think I even knew what half the things I've heard she and her friends talk about were when I was that age.

Meiko grabs a handful of leaves and throws them into the air. She and my daughter watch them fall, then sit back into a pile they made. I hope they come in soon, it's getting chilly... but that's just the mother I am talking. After all, Souta is home sick with the flu. My father is taking care of him while I work.

I push up my glasses, and pick up the last stack of books for shelving on the upstairs level. All the Kids books go downstairs, and everything else is up here. It's an old building, fairly large and made of brick. It's beautiful, though some people claim it haunted. I guess I would too. I have felt what I thought to be him here...

I make my way to the Young Adult section, the only sound my footsteps. It's unnvering being alone like this sometimes. Maybe I'm paranoid.

Oh! I guess I'm not alone after all!

A pale girl sits on the couch, a book in her lap. She looks up at me, her face near emotionless and eyes glazed over with coldness. They're coal black, her eyes. Probably contacts, they're all the rage these days, aren't they? She nods quietly to me, then goes back to the book. It's quite a thick one, and kind of old looking. Funny, she doesn't look much older then fourteen, but most kids that age wouldn't be interested...

While shelving, I watch her from the corner of my eye. Her hair, so blonde it's nearly white, is thick and hanging about to her collarbones, pinned back with barrettes near the same colour. She wears a white coat, which is kind of strange, since most people perfer not to, as they get dirty so easily.

I don't believe I've seen her around before...

Finally done my shelving, I bring up the courage to walk over to this eerie girl. In my calmest of voices, I ask her if she needs anything. And slowly she looks up from the book, and shakes her head.

"I'm fine."

"I see. Well, if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask, alright sweetie?"

That was probably the wrong thing to say. Kagome hates it when I call her sweetie. But this girl just nods, and re-merses herself in literature. Her hands are shaking lightly as she holds the book, her eyes red. Poor thing seems like she's stoned... Is that the new thing, reading while you're stoned? I can't really deny them the library though... I know very well this is a refuge for some kids.

I decide to head back to the front desk. It's a Saturday, so there's bound to be people here. Students and the like.

And still, I'm perterbed by that girl's face.

Such loneliness...

OooOo

He wants to break me? He can try. I will not break. I refuse to break. I survived all the shit the world tried to shove down my throat, and I am not breaking just because one asshole won't get out of my personal space.

But obviously, Hitomi has other plans. He turns back to the mug he put in the sink, washing it out, and then reaching for the pot of tea he has sitting on the table.

"Do you remember, Kagura, when we first met?" He watches the tea dribble into his mug as he contiues, like he knows my answer already, an obvious 'No.'

"You told me you wanted out. But I didn't want to tell you that was impossible. It is, you know. You were adopted by Naraku, and this decided a sort of destiny for you. Someone will always be after you, trying to kill you, for something you've done. And you can't just stop doing things. You have to finish things, but finishing some things starts others, and it's just one long chain reaction you're stuck in the middle of."

"Well, I think I've been doing a pretty good job of staying on my own," I snap. He puts the pot of tea back on the counter, and reachges to the drawer for a spoon.

"How long do you think I've been following you, Kagura?"

I remain quiet.

"No, really. Guess. I want to know what you think."

Swallowing to wet my throat, I search for a number that would make sense.

"A week or two?"

It comes out all wrong. Instead of sharp accusing words, they're soft, and uncommanding. Just weak.

"Try three. Three that I've known where you were exactly. Known you were in the city, over a month. It's almost Hallowe'en, and I was looking forward to a little mischief. But I got impatient. And others got impatient."

My fists clench at my sides, but I continue glaring steadily. "Who knows I'm here?"

"A few coordinates, that's all. Some men you may have met yourself, at our dinners. Remember how you used to sit on my lap," I can almost hear him lick his lips, though I refuse to look at him, "And sometimes you'd feed me, with your sexy dress coming down too low. Then do you remember what happened the majority of the time?"

I do. I have a cursed memory, it loves to remember every little detail, but I bite my lip and pretend I don't.

"Are you sure, Kagura?"

He leaves me a small time, as if to allow me to think, before I hear his footsteps coming closer to me.

"Then you would put your hand between my legs, while we waited for desert to come. Most of my friends were in the washroom, and you were supposed to be chatting with their concubines. But I was lucky. I had no need of concubine, for I had you. And you'd tease me for a few minutes, just enough to tide me over... Stroking me. You stroked me, Kagura, and you purred like a kitten."

My stomach wretches for the fifth time in a short while. He sips the tea, quietly, and none spills. I've turned again, so I can see him. Yelling at him now would do no use. He's just teasing himself, that's what he's doing. He can only push me so far before he'll get bored.

"Do you still wear red with black lace under all those clothes?" He sips the tea again, licking a drop that comes over the edge, "I'm sure he can't afford that kind of silk for you."

I meet his blood-shot eyes. "I'm not in it for the sex. I'm not a whore. I have a life, and I'd appreciate it if you would leave it alone."

"I bet he wouldn't appreciate you in the way I did. Tell me, does he have whipped cream handy?"

But I can only take so much...

A hand firm on my purse, I shake my head in disgust. "I'm going to leave now, Hitomi. Good-bye."

"There will never be a good-bye," he sets down his tea, as I take slow steps towards the door. The slush from my shoes sullies his carpet, navy and thick. I guess he thought lavender and navy match or something. Unless he didn't decorate this place himself.

"You told me, that night when you were drunk," I stop, wanting to hear him finish, and he takes a step forwards, "You wanted a house by the sea. I can give you that. I can give you a beautiful wedding."

"I hate you, Hitomi."

"And you told me," he continues, ignoring me, "When you were resting your head on my stomach after your orgasm, that you would name the child Kanna if it were a girl after your sister. And that if it were a boy, you'd name it Tadeka. Because you were pregnant, Kagura."

Why can't he stop!

I whirl around, keeping my hands near my purse in case I need to pull out my pepper spray. Then again, he's closer to the utensil drawer, so he'll get the knives... Unless I can get to the door first. Damn being short, his strides are lengthier than mine.

Damn him! Damn it all to Hell!

"I'm guessing you got rid of our child..." Another step towards me. Just a few metres and a kitchen table separate us. I can't believe I told him that! I'm so stupid! But why wouldn't I? I was drunk, he was the father...

"Actually, I checked the medical records of the hospital you went to, you got an abortion a month after you ran away from me. Like you were trying to purge me of you. And yet you could've just married me..." he side-steps, as to avoid the table, his hands in his pockets, "And you could've saved the life of our child."

Our child, he says, our child. I'm going to throw up, soon, if I don't get the Hell out of here...!

"They would've been beautiful, just like you... so beautiful... and it would've had my eyes, I know... you wanted to get rid of it, so it wouldn't feel like I was watching you when you slept anymore, was that it?" He takes two more steps, and I pull my bag into plain sight, as to threaten him.

"Stay the fuck away from me, Hitomi!"

Well, maybe I told him when I was drunk, but I was also stupid enough to have left the pregnancy test in the garbage of his washroom that day. Girls in high school got pregnant before, but like everyone, I never thought it would happen to me. I guess I was different, though. I was nineteen, and I had a ring. I had an escape. But it seemed so tasteless and vile in the morning. Watching my own vomit swirl as I flushed it, I couldn't take it.

And I knew he would sleep late.

He was inside of me.

So many times...

I hate the thought of the pleasure we raped of eachother. I hate the thought of all of it, of the strip-teases I did for him and his friends when I wanted some extra cash. I hate that I let him touch me, and actually liked it. I hate that I touched him, and heard him like it, felt him respond, hard and warm. I hate the feeling I can remember of him inside of me, giving what is called life to me. I hated that month I lived, paranoid and sick, before finally I emptied myself.

I tried so hard to get all the dirt off. It's coming back like a disease.

And it's obvious, that now he wants it again. Was I special or something, that he wants me as his doll?

"This is it!" I yell, "I'm going!"

I turn and sprint for the door, glad I left my coat and shoes on, but he covers the distance between us quickly. I feel his hand between my shoulder-blades, shoving me into the mock-wooden surface. I feel my face hit the door, the muscles burning and numbing itself. My nose hurts the most, and I've bitten my lip so hard that I can taste blood. I melt to the ground, and I glare up at the shadow of my past that is Hitomi Kagewaki.

"I hate you!" I say, groping for my purse, which I vaguely recall dropping. He kneels in front of me, resting his knee on my one ankle, holding the other with his hand. His face fills my rotating and darkening vision. Tilting in and out of reality, I swear, I'm going to throw up...

His hand grips my cheek, cold, and suddenly I'm struggling, arms thrashing with all I have. I use my fingernails as weapons. I think I catch skin, I hear the scratching, slapping, but he only leans in further. I can smell his tea on his breath, as he lets his hand wander down from my face, tracing the neckline of my T-shirt.

"Do you miss wearing the red with black lace? It fit you so well, I could barely control myself when I saw it peaking out from under your shirt. You were such a skank, Kagura. But at least I didn't have to pay you..."

Red. The colour of a prostitute. That's what colour nail polish they wear. It was red, like my lips, like my blood, like my eyes. Red, the colour of sex, lust, power. That was the colour I wore.

His breath comes closer, and under the tea is stench. I try to push him off me, but my small arms are nothing compared to his mass. I am nothing, but I won't break. I push at him still, I would claw my way through his breathing corpse to get out. I will not break... will not give up...

It feels like a movie, as his tongue touches the spot right beneath my earlobe. But in a movie, Sesshou-maru would burst in here before Hitomi was able to get much of my clothing off. And Sesshou-maru would rescue me, valiantly, with his strength and charm. He'd carry me off, where we'd embrace and live happily ever after and nothing would be wrong.

But this isn't a movie. Sesshou-maru isn't coming. It's just me, trying to push Hitomi off of me. Trying to figure out how I ended up here, on the foor... under him. He nibbles at my collarbone, and places on my neck, to tease me, to make me squirm. I hate it. He tried to pull off my shirt, but I clamp down my arms, and refuse him. I hear it stretch, and almost rip. A piece of my armour that he tries to strip me of.

His hands move down further...

I protest, but he will stop for nothing...

But I won't break.

I tell myself this many a time, as his lips capture mine, barbarically, a savage version of passion. I don't want this.

But right now I can't do anything to stop it. No one is coming to save me.

I haven't given in, no...

I lie to myself.

"I love you." The wetness of his tongue touches me ear, and I flinch, pulling away.

"I hate you."

His tongue comes again, tracing down my neck. "Good girl."

end of chapter 7 


	8. staring at the ceiling

_life in moderation_

chapter 8: staring at the ceiling

**AN**: First off, last weekend we hit 100 reviews! Whoot! Thank you so much to everyone! The spot of beta has been taken by Numisma, thank yous to her, and everyone who volunteered. Um, I guess I should thank my mum as well (sweatdrop) because she helps me with blood and gore knowledge, though I won't let her read this.

**Disclaimer**: Rumiko I am not. 

o

So beautiful she is.

Under me. Struggling. My hand holds her there; I can feel her collarbone through the wrinkles on her shirt. So fragile, she is. But she struggles, she cries out.

She says she hates me.

Hate me, Kagura.

Thick black bangs fall over her forehead, into her strawberry eyes, so fierce. Sex embodied is how I see her. Just looking at her, her glare gives me a thrill. Her lips, hiding a damp tongue, lash out words a mouth like hers should not say.

And beautiful she is, as I run my hands over her stomach, feeling her muscles tighten, and she bends, trying to get away.

And fragile she is, though she will not break, thrashing and clawing at my arms. She refuses, refuses to let me in.

And sex embodied, she is to me, red lips, lightly tanned skin, so smooth. Her memory lives on in me and will never die. I drink it all, bittersweet.

So beautiful she is.

o

The icing is white and pure on the cake. The sickly sweet aroma curls around me, tempting me. I don't see why it tries. It won't work.

I'm going insane.

"Nishino-san!" An elderly face pokes in the doorway, grinning. "How are those cupcakes coming?"

"Finished."

I wipe icing smudges from my fingers, observing my work. Whoever gets these cupcakes better appreciate them. I'm not getting paid ten dollars an hour for nothing. It's actually a bit harder than I had imagined, when you're baking many things at once. I've taken to posting sticky notes on the wall, and taking them down only when I'm finished. In an hour, I've managed to ice twenty-four cupcakes, and my cookies should be done very soon... among other things.

In case you're extremely dim-witted, you've probably noticed I've taken up working in a bakery. It's really not so bad. It's not a low-level job, like working in a grocery store; you actually need some skill to work here. Here. In a bakery. My, how am I going to explain this to Kagura?

Kagura...

I can just hear her, cackling away. 'The great Sesshou-maru, baking cookies for children! Lord of the cream puffs!'

But will she even be there when I get home...?

I dismiss these thoughts, walking over to the cupboard to get more icing. The old woman takes the cupcakes, heading out into the storefront. I can hear the bell on the door ring as a group of chatting females enter. I decide to ignore them, ignore just about everything for that matter. Ignore that I'm working in a bakery, of all places... ignore that Kagura might not be home...

The one thought I keep with me is that Kagura would have the decency to tell me if she were running off with her ex-fiancé. But I doubt she would anyways. After all, she rejected him. She left him one morning, with his money and without goodbye. But why had she lied to me...

She has her reasons. As I have mine.

I make up my mind to make a few extra chocolate éclairs to bring home to her. I know she likes them.

o

The air smells of rape, and I can barely stomach it. Not that that matters, because there's nothing in my stomach. A piece of toast can only give a person so much energy. I hope Sesshou-maru is doing better than me. Trust me, kids, eat your breakfast. Oh God...

The sheets are cold against my skin. I tilt back my head as I shiver, trying not to think. Which is basically impossible. Something always comes up.

How much I hate where I am... how much I hate why I'm here...

Even stupid things, like memories I'd thought I'd lost. Like when I was ten, and I went to my friend's birthday party. I gave her... a doll, I think. It was a bride. And she looked so lovely, wrapped in crude pink wrapping paper, soft white material cradling her. I was so proud of myself for wrapping it. I remember my father picked me up... he was mad, because I spilled soda on my dress. He stayed mad, all the car ride home, with Kanna sitting quiet in the back seat, and he was still mad when we got home...

Dammit, he's everywhere to me! What will it take to get rid of the bastard?

What if what Hitomi says is true...?

I should just accept it, is that it? Marry him, and have his protection. Marry him, and have a big house, and lots of cash. A whole world, just one word away. It scares me, how large and endless, yet how tiny it is. All that in one word.

Yes.

I could say that, and I would embrace him, and it would all be over.

Just the thought...

Never. I haven't come this far to succumb. I will not...

I've let him already.

He dragged me, kicking and screaming, to his bedroom, neat and perfect. I knocked over a chair on the way, hearing it clang against the floor. I reached for things, tried to throw him off-balance, and nearly succeeded. But then, he was pushing me back onto the mattress, whispering things he knew I would remember. He let his hands travel all over me, as I threw out my limbs, trying to get him away, yelling till my throat felt raw. I figured someone would hear, someone would be able to help me.

I guess I was wrong.

He forced off my clothing, violently. I think my thigh is bruising from when it hit the bed frame in an effort to get away. I hate being so weak. Helpless. I'm not supposed to be that way.

At first he was just toying with me. He touched me with his tongue, watching me squirm, protest. His eyes opened wide, and I delivered a solid kick to his face, but he came back before I could make much of the advantage, pushing me down hard.

The struggle lasted for a while; how long, I'm not sure. Maybe he got bored, but maybe he knew I was giving in. It was as if a large weight were resting on my heart, and slowly, it was being crushed. I couldn't hold it up anymore, and I was sandwiched under it, between the weight and the ground. My legs stopped kicking, my arms went limp. But my heart beat faster and faster, as he came...

It hurt more than I could've imagined. My head pounded, so hard I could barely breathe, barely see. It felt like I was going to split in two, or into many pieces. But I kept silent. That small part of me would not give him the satisfaction. He can have my body. He can have my fucking body. He will not have my soul. He cannot have my heart. They belong to me, and will remain in my control.

I shut my eyes and pretend.

Maybe it would've mattered more to me if I were a virgin. Virginity I tossed out the window at age fourteen. I figured my father would go after that sooner or later, that things would get worse. So I decided not to let him have it. I started partying, getting wasted and stoned beyond limits I thought my body could handle. I experimented with anything I came across. I was slowly buying death, and I knew it.

Fuck you, life.

Fuck you, everyone.

The aftertaste of the assault is bitter; my body still reels. His breath on my neck, his hands on me, holding me down. There was nothing I could do...

What now?

My body feels used and beaten; I won't be going anywhere for a while. I hear Hitomi shuffling around in the kitchen. The clock sitting on the dresser is too far away for me to read and ticks noisily. It's been a while since I left this morning, I know that. Sesshou-maru was going to his job, so we don't starve or get kicked out of the apartment. And here I am. I lied to him. Stupid me. Fucking stupid me.

I don't want to be here anymore...

I let the world go out of focus, burying my head into the pillow, stiff and wrinkled and cool on my face. This is all too much for me. It's my fault; why did I come here? Why did I think I could get rid of him so easily, by myself? He probably knew I would come, too... what if... my father...

I don't want to think about it.

Blackness seeps in, pulling me away, away. The city outside is alive, and time moves on through, life runs so quickly by me. I could die here, and I'd be gone. People might remember me for a while, but they would die too, eventually, and no one would know me at all. Any photographs would be thrown out, or kept merely for historical reference, but no one would know me. Know what happened to me.

Fucking stupid me...

o

I run my fingers over the spines of the books, packed so tightly on the shelves, as I walk through the rows. The library is so quiet it's like I'm walking through a photograph. I love this place. Maybe because I come here so often, since Mama runs it and all. Maybe because I read so much it feels like a home. I guess I read a lot for my age. More than my friends, anyways. I'm twelve, but sometimes, people treat us like we're only five. Especially Mama.

Mama is always so concerned. 'Do up your jacket, Kagome', or 'Don't forget your bag, Kagome'. It gives me a headache sometimes! Really! I'm old enough to babysit Souta, who's only six. Mama even looks at the books I check out before I read them. She says she doesn't want me to be 'corrupted'.

How silly.

My friend Yuka is reading an adult book, and her mom doesn't care. Yuka let me read some of it at recess a few days ago, and the people in it were having sex. Mama probably thinks I don't even know what that is, but I do. Everyone my age does. Eri told us about a girl her sister told her about, who did it for the first time when she was just fourteen. I wouldn't.

It kinda scares me, the thought of doing things like that. No boy has ever seen me naked, besides doctors, or Grandpa when I was just little. And I don't know what I would do if I got pregnant. So I'm not. Simple as that. Besides, it seems gross...

But that's not all. Mama is always scared I'm going to be offered drugs. I haven't, not yet. I'm not sure what that's like though. In the movies, people get really spaced out and act like everything is fine. So drugs are like lies. They make you think and see things that aren't there. So people that use drugs must not like things the way they are. They use drugs to let the world lie to them.

A girl sits in the Young Adult section, her eyes darting over the page. I wonder if she was doing drugs... I walked past her before, and her eyes were very red. She seemed a little dazed too. I'm not going to ask her, though; that's stupid. Duh, even I wouldn't do that.

She's kinda creepy looking, though. Her hair is lighter than bleach blonde, but it doesn't look fake. Her skin is really pale, so you can see her veins lightly through it, especially on her hands. Maybe she's meeting her friends here... but I doubt it. She looks unhappy...

Maybe she just needs someone to cheer her up. Everyone has bad days sometimes.

I gather all my courage together into my chest and step out from behind the bookshelf. I browse the Young Adult section before choosing a decent looking book and sitting down on the opposite end of the couch of the girl. She doesn't even look up. How strange she is.

I pretend to read for a while, sneaking glances at her. I wonder why she doesn't just sign out that book and read it at home. Maybe she doesn't have a home. No, of course she does; her coat looks expensive and new. I bet she just doesn't want to go home.

"Hi!" I say, maybe a little too loudly, because it sounds like a scream compared to the silence. She looks up after a few seconds, her black eyes staring at me, so deep and blank.

"Hi." She bows her head, and I smile.

"What are you reading there?" She lifts her book so I can see the cover, and then puts it back onto her lap. Bram Stoker's 'Dracula'. It looks like it's been here forever, the pages all brown and ripped.

"I haven't read that one," I say, glad she isn't ignoring me like some people do. "Is it any good?"

"Mm-hm," she murmurs, shyly.

"Do you come here a lot?" I ask. "I haven't seen you before."

"Sometimes..." Her voice lowers, so I can barely hear it, and her eyes look away.

"Did you have a fight with your mom or something, so you came here?" I slap a hand over my mouth after saying this, realizing how stupid I am. "Oh, sorry!"

"It's fine..." she whispers. "But you're right... it wasn't my mom though. I don't have... a mom."

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" I exclaim. Great, now what've I done!

"No, it's not like that," she says in her soft, whispery voice. "I was adopted, so I never knew her."

"I see."

She bows her head, running a finger over the side of the book. The paper makes a wispy noise against her flesh as she shifts her weight.

"I had a sister... a few sisters and brothers... but most of them left. We just moved here, a while ago. Hasn't been long."

"Oh, really? Are you going to the junior high near here then?" I ask, shuffling a little closer. She smiles just a little at this.

"No. I'm in high school."

I nod, embarrassed. This girl is so strange. I can't really figure out anything about her. She doesn't look that much older than me either... How weird.

Finally, she gets up and heads for the desk. Meiko checks out her book, because Mama is on the phone, ordering new books in. As the girl heads out the door, she waves to me. I wave back, still confuzzled (which is like being confused and puzzled, which, believe it or not, are different feelings).

Crap! I forgot to ask her what her name is! Doesn't matter, I guess. I doubt I'll ever see her again. People come and go like that. You could see someone on the street, and years later they could be a movie star, but you wouldn't know that. There are so many people in this city... I'm just one small girl.

o

It's cold... my jacket... where's my jacket?

Damn...

I lift my head, my surroundings mocking me. Same damn place as when I fell asleep. Or passed out. Doesn't matter.

But it looks like late afternoon. I lift my body, suddenly aware of the fact I don't have any clothes on. Hiding under the sheet, I look around for my things, which are strewn carelessly on the floor. That bastard; who does he think he is? I wonder if he would go as far as to put cameras in here. I wouldn't doubt he's thought of it. He's probably had other girls in here, by force or not.

Who has been here... in the exact same bed as me... screaming like I have...?

Trying not to think about that, or anything, I sit up, pain shooting up my back. Groaning slightly, I slip off the bed and fall to the ground, clutching my side. I yelp, but Hitomi ignores it, if he's even here. At least I haven't been tied up or anything. Doesn't matter. It still hurts like hell.

Rape is a four letter word. Four letters, that are supposed to describe all that. Rape should be a longer word. Rape shouldn't be a word at all!

My head feels fuzzy, and it throbs, as I reach for my bra. At least the blinds of the window leading to the balcony are down. That's a relief. The door is probably locked, though. Oh yeah, because it's so easy to escape his apartment, when he's twice as strong as me and probably has a few guns lying around here.

Wait... he might have one in here!

No, he would've taken it away. Damn! This is such bullshit! He might have one somewhere else, though.

Ugh, I shouldn't be thinking so much. Best to take this one step at a time. First? Get the shitty clasp on my bra done up. I glare at it, trying to hook it up. It's not exactly working though...

And if I do get out of here, I am going to kill Hitomi. Or at least castrate him.

But that's the me that still thinks I'm winning talking.

o

Bitterly, I put the bag on the kitchen counter, heading to the bedroom just in case. Just to check.

I am a fool. Kagura is not here, of course.

No answering machine message. No note.

Maybe I should give her some time. She needed to settle things, things I have no business in. I have no right at all to be angry with her. Even if she lied...

Kagura.

A girl that fell into my life because she looked hungry. Because I had some spare change and knew I could afford a bit of lunch for her. Because... why was I so drawn to her? Why did I tolerate her for so long, before it became enjoying her presence?

Why don't I have answers?

This is getting me nowhere. Already, it's four o clock. I leave the bedroom, turning off the light. No, she's not home. The door was locked still, from when I left earlier. She almost always leaves it open.

I flex my fingers, hearing my knuckles crack. I'll save the éclairs for when she gets back. They aren't my type of food anyway.

The pale light of the computer screen lights my desk as words pour out of my fingers and appear on the page.

Even if she lied...

o

Ceilings are only fascinating for the first fifteen minutes.

I lie on the bed, which is in a different place from what it had been when I first woke up. Actually, I rearranged everything in my destructive spree of earlier. Once I had dressed, which proved rather painful, I discovered I lacked my purse. No weapons. No way to protect myself.

After pacing around and discovering that everyone in this building is a jackass (if you scream for help, they turn up the TV and tell you to shut up. So helpful!), I started to destroy things. I hope he didn't like that dresser. The drawers have been pulled out, the majority of his belongings, clothes, papers, scattered everywhere. There's a dent in the wall from it.

And now all I've got is the ceiling to entertain myself with. Which, as was previously stated, has lost any appeal it once had. But I'm worn from pacing and kicking at the door. Hitomi is smarter than I gave him credit for. There's no way to lock the door from the outside, so he removed the pin inside the doorknob. I'm stuck here. I'm like a caged animal or something. A spectacle. A doll, sitting on the shelf.

I am no one's doll.

His keys clink loudly against a surface, his boots loud across the floor. I guess he's home. I haul myself to sit, looking around. There's not even hangers in his closet. I could've used those to gouge out his eyes. I could've thrown shoes at him, but like most guys, he has need of only a pair or two, which are by the door. And I'm not trying my luck with making a rope out of clothing. Ten floors. There're no balconies under this one. And I'm not jumping. I'm not giving up so quickly. That way, he'd win.

I will not let him break me, I won't, I won't.

'I do believe in fairies, I do, I do!'

Peter Pan... I read Kanna that story, when she was just a kid. She was the best reader in her class, and I was the one that helped her. I think she was better than me by the time I was in grade seven, and she was just in grade three. Bright kid. Always had her nose in a book. She didn't talk much. She didn't retaliate against our 'father', so she was okay most of the time. Most of the time. But she has her own battle wounds. If I saw her now, would I even recognize her, this girl I called my sister?

Sister. Calling her that is a lie. My whole childhood was a lie. The person I was, who I thought I was... didn't even exist. Or did she? I shouldn't be thinking about this right now...

I hang my legs over the side of the bed, staring at the wall, also rather boring in shades of blue. The footsteps of my captor approach. He seems to be enjoying playing the bad guy. Oh yes, I'm going to die of boredom here. I shouldn't be joking about it... all afternoon is a long time if you're doing nothing, and it's already getting dark. The lights of the city shine in through the curtain, my only light.

"Are you awake?" he says in a low voice, as if afraid of disturbing me.

I snort. "No shit, Sherlock."

"Still bitter..." He chuckles. "You are a tough one."

Bastard.

I hear him fumble with something, and the door opens, just a crack, before he steps in. He stands by it, observing the room.

"My, what a mess you've made," he mumbles. I refuse to look at him. I stare at the wall, and in my peripheral vision I see him watching my face through the dresser mirror.

"Are you hungry?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. Mirror-Hitomi is distorted and rather fat. I remain amused as I answer.

"No."

Liar.

He throws my jacket to me. It lands on the bed, beside me, but I don't touch it. He's all over it, his smell, like he's all over me. Inside me.

"You must be cold, Kagura."

"Not at all."

Liar.

He shuts the door behind him. I turn to the mirror, looking at myself. I stare back at me. Worn and tired, made of shadow. Only city light, alighting parts of me I hate.

I look like my father. Not too much. But my eyes are his. The way I turn my head at a sound is similar to his. These little things... I can't get rid of. Unless I were to kill myself. But that would just be me. He'd still be there, laughing.

I put on my jacket, wishing I had my coat, the one I left at the library. It is rather cold. I let in October air earlier by going out onto the balcony. It was too stuffy in the room. I needed to get the smell out. My stomach quakes again, reminding me I haven't eaten all frickin' day. It's beginning to affect me, light-headedness closing in.

But I'm okay.

Liar.

I look at myself in the mirror for so long my face starts to distort. It twists, things growing prominent, less noticeable, until I'm someone I barely recognize. It's me... I can't deny it, but I don't like her. Not just physically... the scars are evident, in her eyes, one peeking out from the neckline of her T-shirt, my T-shirt. I don't like this person. I don't want to be this person. I want to be somewhere else. I want to be someone I can like myself for being.

Not this person.

The image moves with me, like a coloured shadow, but in my state, it's like a whole different person, moving on their own. I know it's just my eyes in the dark though, just my own self growing insane. Hitomi is still going about his business. I think he's made a few phone calls. I didn't hear my name... then again, I'm kind of out of it... really out of it... reminds me of things that happened quite a few years ago.

Hallucinations... I won't lie, I've been an addict. I've been so into acid the normal world seems grey and blah in comparison. It was beautiful. I remember once, taking my pocket mirror and cracking it, and looking at myself.

Cracked and beautiful.

Wait...

I sit up, wincing and groaning, and make my way over to the window. I part the curtains, running my hands over the cold, clean glass that separates me from everyone else. Night has settled over everything. Neon lights blare, loud, and people move, as if they don't need sleep. Cars honking, engines roaring, the lull of a crowd. The world never sleeps.

Emptying everything out of a drawer, I ignore my mirror self as I head over to the window. I bend my knees, steadying myself for the force of the impact coming back on me. The first hit is just for practice, slow and careful. The second is just a small bump, to make sure. Then I twist my body around, lifting my arms high, and swing the heavy wooden drawer into the window, hard as I can muster. A slight crack. So again, I turn my body around, pushing all my strength into the swing.

The window shatters.

But I've knocked myself off balance, slipping and feeling myself plunge forwards, the drawer coming out of my hands, and slamming into the wall. I'm able to break most of the fall with my hands and forearms, but the ground is covered in shards of glass. Some blood trickles from my forehead into my eye as the frozen air blows in, blanketing me. My skin prickles, the hair standing on end. I push myself up, yelping as the tiny daggers bite into me like a thousand bee stings.

Surely Hitomi's noticed...

My eyes search the balcony for what I need, and it's easily found. I wipe the glass carefully from my hands, picking at the shards under my skin. There are more, on my arms and front. I realize how stupid this is, but it's my last chance now. I'm going through with it. My blood stains the large translucent piece, tinting the world I see through it scarlet.

I've seen blood before. Blood from when I fell off the swings as a kid. Blood in my underwear, when I was twelve. Blood dripping from my nose and lips, fourteen. Blood staining Kanna's beautiful light hair. Blood, leaking from a bullet wound to the head, as my father smirks at me.

I pretend it won't be the first time I've had to draw someone else's blood.

Liar.


	9. turn your heart to stone

_life in moderation_

chapter 9: turn your heart to stone

**AN:** Thanks again to Numisma for betaing, and Kokuei no Onchuu for her insight on gore. Rating has been changed to M, for obvious reasons.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Inuyasha. 

Red; like my father's eyes…

Red; like my coloured lips…

Red; like the blood pooling on the floor…

I pretend the ounces of pain making themselves known in my arms and chest are nothing but my overactive imagination. It disappears under waves of rage, racking my body and contorting my vision. I stand beside the door with my back to the wall, able to feel my ponytail digging painfully into the back of my head. Quite a bit of hair has fallen out of it, dark strands hanging about my face and neck, dampened with sweat. I swallow to wet my throat, rough and dry. My whole body is tingling, begging for revenge, some kind of release.

"Hitomi…" I'm able to speak, though it hurts, just loud enough for him to hear. But he must have noticed the window shattering, unless he's deaf, or a complete moron.

His footsteps hurry over, and I hear him replace the pin in the doorknob, quickly but clumsily, almost as if he's nervous. Even if I die, I'll have the satisfaction of that, I suppose.

Death is such a strange thing…. Some people who don't do anything with their lives are murdered, and countless people die every day from famine, disease and war. And yet some well-off people want nothing but to die. It never comes to them, as they waste away, trapped in the cage that is life.

As soon as I see artificial light peek though the crack in the door, I push it open all the way, catching Hitomi off-guard. My hand flies upward, the large piece of glass quickly finding the skin of his neck. I press just hard enough to get my message across, but not hard enough to actually draw blood… yet.

"Don't you fucking move!"

At my yell, he steadies himself, arms slightly out to his side to help him balance. Eyes wide, he stares. Why, hasn't he seen enough?

I glance around, though my gaze never leaves him for more than a second. My coat is still on the chair in the living area, near the door, my purse on the table. Shit, I bet he's gone through the whole thing by now. How dare he…

"Kagura…"

I tilt the piece of glass just enough to break skin, already streaked minutely with my own blood. His breathing is andante and controlled, like a calculating predator. And yet, he barely seems alarmed. Is it that you know me that well, Hitomi? Do you still think you know me now?

"Whatever you have to say, I don't want to hear it," I hiss, forcing him a step backward, and myself forwards - closer to the door. "I'm getting out of here, do you understand me? And you're not going to call me. You're not going to fucking follow me again, do you hear me?"

He inhales, the look in his eyes disturbing. "And if I don't let you?"

"You'll find out then, won't you?" I force him back a little more - we're almost to the table. My body is dragging, exhausted, but my mind pays no attention and urges me forward. The hand clutching the shard vibrates along with me, biting further into Hitomi. I'm not sturdy, head pounding as if a million soldiers are marching relentlessly over my head, and my bangs hang heavily into my line of sight, half-blocking him from view. If only he weren't there. But 'if' is just a concept built on wishes, and we all know that wishes don't come true.

"You'll kill me?" He smirks. "You may be angry, Kagura, but I doubt you have that sort of a hardness in you - even if you are Naraku's daughter. Could you really handle knowing you took life from me? But maybe I am the one who is wrong. After all, you did so easily get rid of our child, destroyed an innocent soul. What a terrible and indifferent mother you are."

"You're wrong," I tell him. "You don't know me at all, or what I will and won't do."

_What I have done…_

Droplets of crimson liquid swell over the pasty white skin, resting on the translucent dagger that threatens to slit his arteries. I can see his reflection in the glass, dirtied and stretched. He would bleed to death in a number of minutes if I were to press in far enough. I'm tempted to, and if he were to push me to a certain point in this state, I just might. But I don't want to. I don't want to have that tagged onto my soul. That past I let go of, and I don't want to create another similar one. The smell of blood still haunts me, unwilling to let go.

My other hand I place on his shoulder and press, signaling him to take more steps backwards. Under the cotton I can feel his flesh, his skin, the muscle and bone that is his being. A few locks of dark, greasy-looking hair fall into his eyes, causing him to look even more deranged than he did previously. He doesn't have the expression of someone who's about to die. The fear, the panic, stuttering, mouth open wide. No sound comes out, no protests heard. Most people die afraid, in pain, praying they won't be condemned to hell. Idiots.

What hell could be worse than this world we live in?

A draft touches the back of my neck, and I hear the clinking of glass from the bedroom, from pieces that had landed on the awful-looking curtains hung over the floor length window. The door creaks a bit as the wind pushes it open a little, swinging back into place in the frame. No other sound reaches me, just myself and _him_, our breathing, skin against clothing as we move one step closer to my bag.

_The coldness of my hand against the gun…_

Would killing him turn me back into the old version of me, that I just barely escaped before she collapsed upon herself?

"I don't quite understand," Hitomi says, leaning back a little, "why you would prefer to live like a dog, rather than a goddess? It wouldn't be so bad…."

"I'm not like you, or my bastard of a father," I insist, reaching one hand cautiously out towards my purse, "I'm not a heartless bitch. I don't want what you have, and you cannot give me what I want. So get the hell out of my life, before I'm forced to get a fucking restraining order."

As my hand closes around the burgundy corduroy strap, a coffee stain that caused the fabric to harden decorating the front, I feel coldness on my cheek, and I whip back to face Hitomi, who gives me that sickening smile. His right hand sweeps along my hairline, past blood and sweat, coming down to my jawbone. I push the glass a little harder into him, and more blood leaks out, small rivers that stain the light material of his shirt, like a scarlet rain. I've barely gone in though. I can feel the rumbling of his vocal chords, of his breath.

"Give me a good-bye kiss, at least ," he murmurs, and I scowl, pulling my body as far apart from his as I can manage.

"Go to hell."

"Very well then." He removes his hand, letting it brush by my shoulder on the way down. "Get on with it."

"I don't take orders from you." We take steps towards the door, closer and closer to my coat.

"I already told you," I continue, "I'm letting you live. Because…. You know what, Hitomi, if you know me so well, guess what I'm going to say next!"

"Because you, Kagura, are not like me?" he guesses, emphasizing how he says my name; sickening, sickening, sickening.

"Because living is often a hell of a lot worse than dying," I answer, pulling my coat off the chair with my free hand. Bundling it up, I tuck it under my arm so I won't have to risk losing control of the situation. Something so simple as a piece of glass means life or death to him. Knowing that I could kill him, right here and now…is somehow exciting. More than exciting.

_Just like your father…_

"Good-bye," I say, trying to turn my voice into ice, as one hand fumbles for the doorknob. He stares back at me, my breathing difficult, body pained. He just dumps all this on me, more and more. I will never see him again. He better not come near me again.

Or else what? I'll kill him?

He deserves to be killed…

I won't kill him. I lessen the pressure on the shard, so it barely touches him.

I'm human, still. I won't let myself become what he is.

_Can't escape, can't escape…_

"Good-bye," he says in return, "_my Kagura_."

In one movement he pushes himself forwards, towards me, one hand just grazing my thigh, letting me know he's there. I feel my fingers meet the severed flesh of his neck, blood spurting, pouring out like a waterfall stained. Something not quite a scream, not quite a whimper, catches in my throat, and my breath stops as I jump away, falling back against the back of the couch. His body collapses with a heavy thump onto the ground, and all I can hear is the red liquid running over the floor, as if a flood. A bit of it touches my foot, and I jerk it away. The crimson stain is warm and alive. His artery has been sliced open, and it continues to let out life, the air becoming thick and coppery with the smell.

He leaned forward, sliced his own throat open. He did it, not me, and he'll be dead in a few minutes. Dead.

Of my hand and his will.

Damn you, Hitomi.

What have we done?

Maybe he heard the questions in my head, for he is laughing, though it sounds more like a gurgle, bubbles emerging from the slash in his neck. Eyes are wide open and he lies face to me. He watches me, taking in every inch of my fear, my hatred.

Killed himself with my hands.

I'm not sure how long it's been, but I watch him, his hands reaching weakly out and towards me. The piece of glass is somewhere away; it flew out of my hand as I fell back. I pull my legs in close to me, struggling to avoid the blood that is pooling near me.

_Dead, dead, dead_, the little girl inside of me sings. _He's not coming back anymore!_

_Can't hurt me anymore…_

I wish she would stop singing.

It's sticky, and drying, on my hands and up my arms. My jacket is heavily stained, probably ruined. I'm surprised I'm so clean, but maybe I'm just lucky. Better stop using up all my chances, though. I stagger to my feet, leaning heavily on the couch.

_Dead, dead, dead._

**Be quiet.**

_Made him go away…_

Gone away.

I find myself at the sink, my mind a blank as to how I got here. My hands are under cold, cold water, washing all the blood away. Tainted water clings to the fine hairs on my arm, and my socks are stained as well. I splash water on my face, trying to ignore the smell of a corpse. So quickly it has turned from Hitomi to a lifeless body. His eyes are still open, staring at where I used to be. Wide, white, and dead.

When I was a kid, I hung out with a group of boys. I couldn't stand the other little girls, so prissy and perfect. We were throwing rocks at the frogs in a pond behind the school at recess; I was just five, I think, and one of mine, a large rock, hit one dead on. It lay there, half-in, half-out of the water, and it didn't move. The boys poked it with sticks, and threw more rocks, but it never moved. I didn't get it.

That it was gone, and was not coming back.

Everything does that, the teacher told me when I told her. She helped me bury the frog, and we had a little funeral. It was nice. The tombstone was the rock that killed him.

But I have no unhappy emotion about killing Hitomi. Good riddance. I hate him. He can't stalk me; he's gone, gone from me.

It's just that…

Could I have done that? Could I really have killed him myself? It almost feels like I did.

I don't want to think about this. I don't want to think about anything!

I want to get away…

Avoiding the cold and still Hitomi, I stumble over to the door, slipping on my shoes. I grope for the doorknob, my palms sweaty, my senses causing me to become dizzy, as if I'm watching myself from afar.

Down the hallway I run, firmly shutting the door as I leave. My footsteps are heavy against the floor, off-time with my rapid pulse, thumping in my ears. I reach the staircase and start down two steps at a time, recklessly, not looking back once. It wasn't the first time, no…. The inscriptions on my heart tell all, shamefully. My body had long since lost it's purity, but my heart was still beating strongly, with innocence. The virginity of one who has never killed.

I didn't mean to do it…

But I did. And I guess that's all that really matters. Maybe I did mean to, but I've convinced myself otherwise. It happened, though; I can't deny that.

My father…. When I was fourteen, my father dragged me into our car, after shaking me from sleep. He would not tell me anything about where we were going, besides 'a deal'. His eyes gleamed as streetlight passed over us for less than a second, before plunging us again into darkness. The headlights of other vehicles glared at me like demons, never blinking. We soon arrived at a warehouse, and he told me to follow him. I didn't want to, but I did. It would've been stupid not to.

Turns out, his client didn't exactly want anything to do with this 'deal'. The kid was backing out. He wasn't a kid, really; it looked like he was just out of college. But he stuttered when he talked, kept pushing up his glasses and pulling at his shirt. He was a little boy, who wanted some extra cash. That selfish wanting got him tangled up in the web that was my father's crime ring. He tried to explain to Naraku, while I waited by the door.

The idiot had demanded they meet alone, but he didn't mind my presence. He probably though I was my father's whore. I wouldn't doubt it; I wasn't dressed too conservatively. You could see the bruises on my arms, and an ugly scratch above my right breast. He looked from me, back to my father, and dove further into our world.

And so began the next ten minutes of his life.

I waited outside the room, half-asleep, and listened to them argue over pot. My father twisted his words, slowing sinking his fangs into the client. I stopped paying attention a few minutes in, but was brought back to it when I heard a scream. I peeked inside, and was greeted by the form of my father. The client was sprawled on the ground, a bloody scrape covering the whole left side of his face. His glasses were broken, and he stared at me with hazy eyes, as I realized what my father had shoved into my grasp.

The coldness of my hand against the gun…

"Kill him," Naraku said simply, touching on my shoulder. I spun around to face him, angry.

"What the hell?"

"Kill him."

"No! You bastard!" I stretched out my arm, holding the gun away from us. But the action was useless. Before I knew it, my father had spun me back around, and pushed my arm horizontally in front of me. The gun was aimed at the frightened man, and my finger was on the trigger, shaking, threatening to pull back just far enough…

"Well, Kagura?" my father asked in his superior tone. I could feel myself shaking as his hand traced from my temple down to my earlobe, his breath tickling the top of my head. His other hand still held out my arm, the grip strong and firm.

"Why should I?" I hissed.

"The only reason you shouldn't, is that you can't. You are still weak." I could hear him smirk as the man shook, trying to form words with his numbed mouth. I tried to put down my arm, but I couldn't. More venomous phrases dripped from my father's mouth, tightening around my heart. So tight, so very tight. I could barely breathe, barely stand up straight. I didn't want to kill anyone. I didn't want-

I heard the shot ring, and realized that in my fear, I'd pulled the trigger.

Through the left side of his head was a bullet hole. Because of the distance, it was an unclean wound, the skin pushed away and blood dripping down into his eyes. Through his skull, through his brain. He was dead, instantly.

The force of the gun going off had pushed me back a little, but my father caught me, giving a little 'heh' under his breath. The expression of pure fear stayed on the man's face as his body went limp, and he fell to the ground, dead. A smear of blood was left on the wall, bright red and almost glowing. My father's grip on me lessened, and I spun around, pointing the gun at him.

I could feel my heart curling up inside of me, being torn apart. Pins and needles carved words onto it, moulding it, encasing it in stone. I had a heart. But it was worthless.

"I'll kill you!" I yelled, voice hoarse.

My father raised an eyebrow at this. "Will you now, Kagura?"

My hands froze on the gun as I fell to my knees. I wanted to kill him then. But I was too weak. I wanted to kill him; I still do. But I didn't. He laughed, slipping his fingers under the straps of my tank top. I decided then I would live, if only to spite him.

If only to find some way to make him pay for what he'd done.

We left then, and Naraku told me not to worry about the body. In the business he was in, bodies were cleaned up in no time. The same thing will happen to Hitomi before morning, I'm sure. The blood stains on my body will become invisible to all but myself.

I stared at my hands the whole car-ride home, alighted every few seconds by streetlights. When I was a child, I believed my father loved me. And though he wasn't really my father, his fangs are still left in me. I still call him that; father. His cold, blood-red eyes somehow match mine. I don't know how old he was when he first destroyed a life. I was almost fifteen.

I am a murderer.

The memory recedes as I run out the door of the apartment, quickly losing myself in the crowd. Aimlessly, I jog down the street, trying to escape, trying to forget. Nothing here is familiar, and pain soon blossoms in my chest, causing me to stop. I duck into an alleyway; it's half-filled with garbage, but at least there's no one here to see me. Leaning against the wall, I let my stomach purge, and tears make their way out of my eyes. It was a mistake to go to Hitomi. Everything I do seems to be a mistake!

Father _hated_ my mistakes.

I lean against the wall, knees clutched to my chest. Maybe if I keep running in my dreams it will never catch me. My head bows, and I rub my cheeks on my sleeves. Wrapping my jacket around me, I close my eyes and let my body give in. The wings I might have had are now crippled, nothing but bones and bloody anthracite feathers. I keep falling…

But even as I slip under the veil of sleep, I know I will be forced to return at dawn.

End of Chapter 9


	10. love is a place

_life in moderation_

chapter 10: love is a place

**AN**: Whoot! 10 chapters!

I hope this chapter works out and makes some kind of sense. It was frustrating, yet fun. The title comes from a Metric (a band no one's heard of) song of the same name, which I adore.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Inuyasha. 

There is a never-ending silence where there used to be something. It stayed that way all night, and it has not decided to let up this morning. The éclairs sit in their brown paper bag on the counter, untouched.

I shouldn't be worrying. Surely it's nothing harmless, and Kagura will come back soon because she was visiting an old friend, or something of the sort. And she'll laugh at me being worried about her. But then again, maybe she's lying dead somewhere, so I shouldn't be worrying because it doesn't do any good.

I sip my coffee, and my computer whirs as it changes song files. Parts of my shirt are becoming wet as droplets run off my hair to darken the material, like tears or rain. In my hands the cup is warm, steam rising, twisting and twirling from the surface. I turned up the heat a little, but I'm still cold. It's going to get a lot colder though. A whole lot colder.

This is ridiculous. If I sit around waiting for her to call, to come back, she won't. It would be better to just take my mind off things. How the hell I am supposed to do that, I would like to know.

It's finished. What I've been writing. Last night I wasn't able to sleep (really, who would be?) and it just came out. My editor is coming soon to discuss it with me. I've already sent the draft to him, so if that goes well, we'll be able to move out of this little place, into something bigger, something nicer. Not as nice as… places I have lived. Then again, this apartment has a certain atmosphere that would be almost difficult to leave. I've been here a few years, so maybe that's why. After you've known something or someone a long time, you begin to feel attached. Which is why some people are wanderers. They don't want to become close to something, vulnerable. But that fear in itself is their weakness, their blindness.

The phone rings suddenly, and I put my mug down onto the table. I don't even bother to look at the call display, just pick up.

"Hello?"

"Sesshou-maru."

She, being Kagura, says it clearly, without a 'hello', or even a question. So sure of herself.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine… Well, no, I'm not. Could you come and pick me up?"

"Where are you?"

She tells me the street, and that she's using the pay phone outside a café. There's a pause as I write it down, and I hear her fiddling with the phone cord, probably letting it coil around her finger like a tiny black snake, squeezing just tight enough to leave an impression.

"All right, I'm coming," I say. "Just stay where you are."

A pause.

"I love you," I murmur, and wish I could do more than just tell her that right now.

"Love you too," she whispers, and I hang up. Grabbing my coat, I head out the door, leaving my coffee on the table, forgotten.

o

I look like shit.

Water still clings to my hair, tickling the side of my face as the wind touches it, as if teasing me. I draw my arms tighter around myself, looking up and down the street. After calling Sesshou-maru, I went into the café's bathroom and was able to wash my face and hands. I guess I can't expect to look all that great, after waking face-up in an alley.

My coat is in a bundle beside me. I can't wear it; it's covered in blood. I'm glad no one had decided to inquire. That would make for _fabulous _conversation, now, wouldn't it?

My stomach aches for food, though I already had a bagel and coffee from the café. I still have a few bucks left, but I don't want to go back in. He should be here soon. He probably took a taxi, since we don't have a car.

Though the streets are full and alive, with a man basking with a scratched up guitar a few stores down and the sidewalks packed, it somehow seems quiet. And it's obvious why.

A taxi pulls off to the side and slows down, and I get to my feet immediately, swiping my belongings before someone else can. I stare at the door as it opens, unable to see the driver through the tinted windows. A silver head emerges, and golden eyes scan the crowd as he stands to full height, looking like a king among peasants. No doubt he thinks he is.

I rush over to him; I can't help myself, my legs moving of their own accord. He turns to me, and for once his face isn't expressionless. It's filled with concern and something else, and never in my life have I been this happy to see anyone!

Hurrying awkwardly towards him, my purse swings with the beat of my half-run half-walk, hitting against my thigh, the strap rubbing against the cold skin of my arm. I look up and the pain half relinquishes itself, or maybe I'm just forgetting about it. All I know is that it's warm as I feel his arms wrap around me and pull me in. He stumbles back but one step with the force from my run, pulling me closer. Burying my face in his chest, I can smell him, smell the coffee on his breath. A strange sense of security blankets my heart, swaddling it gently.

His lips caress the top of my head, so lightly it's hard to feel. I hear him whisper my name, but everything seems so far away. Instants pass where I fear he'll push me away, yell at me for being so reckless, but he doesn't. He doesn't hate me, like I've begun to hate myself. Instead, he runs one hand through my hair, which I just left down and messy since I couldn't do much about it in the dimly lit restroom. I'm sure I'm ugly and smell like crap, but I don't really care. He looks just beautiful though, and if I looked up, I bet he'd be blushing, even a little.

He guides me into the taxi, and I lean back against the seat, listening to the buzzing heater and the low drone of the radio. The driver pops her gum, giving me a wink in the rearview mirror, from which hangs a mini Sailor Mars plushie (also winking). This vehicle smells like cleaner, and hints of lemon cover what is most likely tobacco smoke.

"Back home?" she asks, and Sesshou-maru nods as he reaches over to do up my seatbelt. I close my eyes, listening to the sharp metallic snap that comes before we drive off. There's a small bump, and I'm partially slammed back, the rough material of the seats pressing into my back through my T-shirt, the clip of my bra pinching skin.

A hand comes to rest on my shoulder lightly, and I half-open my right eye, tilting my head to look at Sesshou-maru.

"Will you be my pillow?" I ask in a lazy voice, my body asking for food and a proper rest. Sleeping on the ground in the cold doesn't exactly leave you bright-eyed and bushytailed. You know, if I had a tail…

"Sure," Sesshou-maru mumbles and I grin, leaning over to lean on his shoulder. I wrap one hand around his upper arm, like a child would do with a sleep toy. He's just a teddy bear underneath all his smart-ass comments and glares. Just a really big teddy bear…

The hand formerly on my shoulder moves down to adjust to my shape, and comes to rest on my knee, his thumb running small circles on denim. As we turn a corner I'm pushed further into him, and his hand is jolted to the inside of my legs, though he moves it back seconds later.

"Kagura."

"Mm?"

He pauses, and I can feel the muscles in his arm stiffen, the invisible designs he draws on my leg becoming quicker.

"You… You went to see your ex-fiancé. Am I right?"

What a way to ruin a moment…

I lick my chapped lips, drawing in thick breath. I still don't open my eyes. First, because they probably wouldn't if I tried. They feel glued shut. And secondly, because I don't want to. I'll just stay safe here, in the dark.

"Yeah," I cut him off before he can say anything else. "I needed to finish things. I had to… get him out of me. It sounds stupid, doesn't it?"

"No. But…" The circles get a little more desperate. "But you were gone all night."

"I didn't go to him to cheat on you."

He sighs. "That's not was I was worried about. Kagura…"

The silence eats away at us as he looks for words, and the sounds just said decide to come back to me, teasing my ears with their sound.

…_didn't go to him to cheat on you._

Something stirs, deep inside of me, making me feel ill. That was the truth, so why is this hurting me?

Truth. Truth as I see it. Truth as I want it to be. Something becomes true when it is false; when something cannot be false it is true. I didn't want Hitomi in me, tasting me. That is my truth. I didn't want to be there at all, and I despised him. I still do.

But did I _want_ him to _die_?

Obviously Sesshou-maru knows something happened, as he asks so quietly, "Did he-"

I cut him off once more, not wanting to disturb the taxi driver out of her little mind. "Let's talk about this at home."

Yeah. We'll go home, to the crappy little apartment we live, breath, sleep and love in, and maybe I'll have a few minutes of nothing before everything decides to come banging on my door like a hurricane.

We reach our building sooner than later, and Sesshou-maru gets out first after paying for the ride, while I struggle with my seatbelt. Never liked the damn things. I knew a guy, way back when, who fell asleep at the wheel and survived only because he didn't have his seatbelt on. I'm not sure how, but that's what he told me. I catch my finger twice before getting it off, and by then Sesshou-maru is waiting for me. I give him a look, refusing to budge, and he raises an eyebrow.

"Let me guess; you want to be carried."

"…yeah…"

To my surprise, I feel one arm scoop under my thighs, pulling me up off the seat, while another arm dives behind my back and holds firmly to the side of my ribcage, his fingertips tickling the side of my breast. He carries me bridal style out of the taxi and up to the door. By this time I've wrapped both hands around his neck, pressing my ear to his chest to listen to his heartbeat, steady and loud in my head. The man coming out of the building holds the door so we can get in, and I hear Sesshou-maru thank him before I sink back into the blanket of warm blackness.

No one I've ever known would've done this for me. They'd hate me, or just not care, not even noticing if I left. They'd be too wasted to empathize, and I'd probably either become more wasted to try and forget, or begin drowning in myself, with no hands to pull me up. I'd begin tearing at my arms, my hair, locking myself into the closet so no one could hear me, though they were making love in the next room over, and I could hear perfectly, every rustle of clothing, skin rubbing against skin, every thrust, every scream as they climaxed. I remembered I had no one at all, that no one loved me. They loved having sex, and getting stoned with me, and I did too. But it never went beyond that, and at the drop of the hat we would part ways without even missing each other.

You hear all sorts of things in closets. Some you may not want to hear, and some are your own screams, that you trapped in there so no one would notice just how much you've been _bleeding_.

It's different now. I want to hang onto this because it actually means something. And I love someone. That alone keeps me afloat.

I can feel his arms supporting me as we get closer to our door, closer to our home.

"I'm going to have to put you down now," he says. "I have to open the door."

"Mm-kay." He lets go of my legs and they swing heavily to the floor. I get my bearings, then slowly release him, while he fumbles for the keys. Finally the door swings open, and he takes my hand, pulling me quickly inside. The door closes and we are alone from the world.

"What do you want for breakfast?" he asks me as I'm being led down the hall. He pushes open the door to the washroom, and I hop onto the counter while he starts the bath.

"Anything," I say, forcing my eyes away from the mirror, the place they keep straying. "Can you make eggs?"

He nods, heading for the door with quick steps, pausing once he's there.

"We'll talk after. You're a wreck."

"No kidding." I reach for the bottom of my shirt and try pulling it upwards, but this proves more difficult and painful than I had anticipated. Sesshou-maru stands in the doorway, staring at his feet. I hop off the counter, back to him, wincing at the pain in my lower abdomen.

"Do you need help?"

"I'll manage," I say, pulling the shirt over my head. My hair becomes infused with static, clinging to my face and electricity nipping at my ears. From behind me there is a sharp intake of breath, and I freeze. I hear him approach, and a kiss is placed on the back of my neck as he sweeps my hair away. Fingertips begin to trace the large indent in my back. I have been careless.

The scar is deep, spreading outwards from the centre of my back. I haven't seen it all too clearly, only in mirrors, and it was once half-revealed in a picture someone took. It looks like a spider. My father's calling card. One of his favoured homicide methods; spider venom. He invited people over for dinner sometimes. After the meal, Kanna would retreat to her room, and I'd try to find means of escape. Sometimes, though, I would stand outside the kitchen and listen with sick fascination. As he sipped the blood-coloured wine, the guest would begin to choke. The next hour or so would be utter torment, until my father knew all he needed to know.

Then he usually said something sick, but clever.

And then there was one less person in the world. One less person in my father's way.

Sesshou-maru's fingers sink into my flesh, following the spindly legs that reach out, as if trying to capture me. He moves to my arm, and the tiny cuts from the glass, along with a small bruise forming on my shoulder.

"We'll bandage these after as well," he tells me; then his touch disappears and I shiver, feeling myself wanting him to do it again. The touch was exciting, comforting. The scar will not fade, but its sharp memory can be softened.

But I guess this isn't the time nor the place, as the door shuts and he exits quietly. The bathtub is nearly full, the water still pounding against the sides. The surface of the mirror is covered in whitish steam, and I lean over to it, tracing an x. In the lines I can see myself peeking through.

I leave my clothes on the floor and sink into the water, numbingly hot. Now more than ever, I can feel the pain of my misused body, and I hope I'm not pregnant, that there's not another piece of it growing inside me once more. A while ago, I can't remember when, I heard someone say that there are two kinds of people in this world; those who destroy and those who create. I think I was chained to the destroyers for so long I became one myself.

Strands of black float weightlessly around me in the water as it laps at my shoulder and I sink further in. It comes up over my ears, and the silence gets louder. I can hear it flowing, my feet tapping against the other end. I close my lips and eyes, letting it swallow most of my face. I stay that way until my lungs ache, then come up for a quick breath before going back down. Inside of my head I pretend it was a nightmare. That's all it was.

I squeeze a blob of shampoo into my hand, light yellow and blobbish. It smells nice, clean, and I scrub my head until it hurts, scrub my whole body, but it seems like it's still there. The blood. His stain is on me, inside of me.

His eyes, so wide and mad, keep staring at me when I close mine. He keeps chasing me, chasing me…

The water drips rapidly from the end of chunks of hair, collecting into droplets before falling. The air seems cold as I bring myself to stand, leaning against the wall and trying to keep my footing. Bumps ripple over my skin, and a chill rakes through my body, the muscles in the back of my neck tensing painfully. Quickly I step out, snagging a towel from where it rests on the counter. I wrap myself in its soft and warm blueness, pressing it onto my hair to try and dry it quickly. After pulling the plug so the water can drain, I close my eyes, so I don't have to see the mirror. So I don't have to see myself.

I wrap the towel tight around my abdomen since I have no clean clothing and would much rather not put on the dirty ones. Finding an elastic, I pull my hair back to the nape of my neck, feeling coolness drip down my neck still, like cold dead fingers.

I guess I'm a murderer then. If I wasn't before, then I definitely am now.

I open the door, watching as steam billows out with me, and peer into the kitchen. Sesshou-maru sits with his back to me, and there's a plate on the counter beside him, along with a cup of coffee. He must've heard me, because he glances back. My hand reassures its grip where it makes sure the towel stays up, and I try to smile. I think his eyes sweep over me, but I don't feel violated, or even embarrassed.

"I'm gonna go get dressed," I tell him, and he nods.

I pull on a tank-top and some pajama pants, since I seriously doubt I'll be going out today. I don't bother with anything else and immediately head out into the kitchen, my stomach turning a little. After snack will come story-time, just like in kindergarten, only what I've got for show-and-tell isn't a doll or a picture from my trip to Disneyland. No, I have a whole photo album full of scars to show, layers and layers of people I've been, tried to be and escaped. But now that this me is soiled, will I be moving on? I don't want to. I feel safe here. I like it here.

Sitting down beside Sesshou-maru, I quickly scarf down breakfast, or brunch, I guess, though I feel a little sick. Living feels so weird now. Almost like it's a dream.

He waits patiently until I finish, then leads me over to the sofa, clutching a roll of bandages and a bottle of disinfectant. It stings, but I clench my teeth and wait. The liquid splashes into the tiny wounds, and cloth is wrapped around my arm. My mouth stays closed, but what happened is bubbling, and wanting to come back up from inside of me. After trying so hard to forget, I almost don't want to tell. But maybe burying it won't work.

I _want_ to forget…

It should hurt more, shouldn't it? Maybe I'm just getting used to the feeling.

I don't want to feel this. Nothing, yet everything all at once.

There are a few cuts on my chest, as well as my forehead, so the bandaging takes a little while. I stare at my lap, feeling Sesshou-maru's breath lilting over me. Finally, he sets the roll of cloth down on the table and the stinging begins to fade. My hair is still damp against my head, the taste of eggs on the roof of my mouth. Giving a sigh, I draw my legs up onto the couch beside me, and let myself lie down, head in his lap. He seems uncomfortable for a second, my eyes half-closed and the world hazy, but soon I feel his hand resting on my stomach. It's natural, and I actually feel safe.

"What happened?" he asks quietly. And I begin talking.

"He wanted me back," I start, voice sounding far away, as if I've been hypnotized, "but I didn't want to go back. We started arguing, and he… he used everything I said against me… everything that had happened. I tried to leave, but…"

Tears well up in my eyes, my throat tightening as if hands of a ghost are trying to strangle me. Inside my head there is more pounding, and every emotion of the last day and a half reminds me it was there, painfully.

"…r-raped me," I manage, the waves of memory rolling out before coming back in, higher. "I passed out for a while. He locked me in his room, for… it was dark when I got out, I…"

The shattering of glass is vivid in my head, clear, shiny pieces reflecting the light of the city. I see my face in it, a bit of my blood…

"I smashed his window…" I can say with almost a smirk, but it _dies_, my voice becoming thinner, wispy and lost. "I… pressed it to his throat. Just as a threat. So I could… _get away._ But…"

_But I killed him._

"He… leaned forward and… slit his own throat."

_Red, like the blood pooling on the floor…_

"With my hands. He killed himself. He's dead."

_Dead, dead, dead._

_Made him go away…_

"I ran outside and fell asleep in an alley," I finish, deciding to spare the details. "I woke up and phoned you. I guess that's it. Don't worry about the bastard's body; someone in the business took care of it."

I'm pulled tighter towards Sesshou-maru, drawn up so my head rests over his heart. Like a broken doll, I don't move, just shivering and trying to keep myself together. I want to laugh, strangely enough. Everything seems funny, so goddamn insane and out of my control. Clinging to the material of his shirt, I try to calm myself.

I don't know what I'm supposed to feel.

"I don't want to go to work today," I mumble.

"You don't have to," he tells me. "But you should probably go see a doctor."

"Mm-hm."

I let my body go limp, let myself be held and cradled. We sit there for a while, barely speaking. He murmurs things to me, and it seems to be getting closer, but whether I've stopped running or I'm the one catching up, I'm not sure. My eyes are closed, and all that exists is us. After a while my heart stills, and it's just warmth, comfort. Just us.

No Kagewaki, nor my father.

I'm safe, I'm home.

"You were right," I tell him. "Seeing a doctor would be best… since…"

The rest of that sentence hides somewhere deep inside of me, leaving the silence to speak for itself. The situation is like worms crawling up my throat. It's still not quite gone. I slide off his lap, head reeling as blood rushes from it. His warmth vanishes, touch disappearing, and I'm reminded so indignantly that almost everything I've ever known has become evanescent.

"The walk-in clinic isn't-"

"Actually, I was thinking of a place… I used to go to. An underground place." I swing my legs over the side of the couch, trying to regain feeling in them. "I can take the bus."

"I'm coming," he says forcefully as I stand, a little off-balance.

I say nothing as I push myself to stand, suddenly shrinking within myself. The insides of me are hollow, devoid.

"Kagura."

I twist my neck from side to side, trying to send messages to my muscles for them to start working again. That would be nice. I head over to the door, annoyed as I realize I have no jacket or coat to wear.

"After what's happened," he continues, "I will be escorting you to work, and class."

It'll be so safe inside my cage.

No escape from inside the cage.

I'm glad he chose the words he did, because quite frankly, it's beginning to scare me. The time we just spent has the feeling of a memory now, a weird twisting in my chest. I like it but…

I'm _scared._

I feel a coat draped over my shoulders (I guess neither of us cares that I'm still in pajama pants, eh?) and the crinkling of a paper bag being pushed into my hands.

"Those are for you," Sesshou-maru tells me, slipping on his shoes. I stuff my feet in mine, crushing the backs of them, and look into the bag.

Chocolate éclairs.

As we step outside, I lean into him, the warmth coming back strong. I'm being cornered now, and I am afraid, but I love it. I love him. This isn't the cage my father stuffed me into. I can let myself fall back on something…

Safe.

We walk aside one another down the hall, my body still hurting, and my head still screaming. I bind my fingers through his, wondering if he can feel me shaking. Everything is opening up. There was no room for this before, only my anger and hatred, what I could salvage of my wrecked self, enough to survive. But I can open up those doors I locked so I wouldn't become weak and end up more damaged than I was.

"_Thank you_."

o

Lakes of vermilion against cold patterned tile.

Shards of glass hiding under the flesh.

Eyes wide and laughing, as the corpse is dragged away.

Winning and losing are fickle actions.

The game never quite ends…

end of chapter 10


	11. coffee stained scrapbook

life in moderation

chapter 11: coffee-stained scrapbook

**AN:** Thanks again to Numisma for beta-ing. If you haven't seen the Shichinin-tai arc, or the first movie some characters will be unfamiliar.

**Disclaimer:** I have no rights to Inuyasha.

She seems unstable.

Kagura sits beside me on the bus, the fires within her dimmed. One hand holds mine tightly, the other covered in bits of melted chocolate from her éclair. A bit of cream hides under the curve of her bottom lip, but she's able to manipulate her tongue to get it off.

I usually try to avoid taking the bus. The seats and windows are filthy, and the people are detestable. But we both know we'd rather not pay for another taxi.

She looks out the window, wiping a bit of grime from the pane. Her eyes skip over the buildings, painfully. Memories, most likely. We all have them. Memories are what make a person who they are, yet as we learn new things, our memories are rewritten, free of our will. So I guess much of our 'reality' is actually dream, or fantasy. That which we create of our will.

Each of us lives in our own world, meeting those of others briefly, but still staying so separate. They are a part of our experience, but we still are different. In this aspect, we are alone.

"Hey."

She faces me, giving a little smile and holding up an éclair.

"You sure you don't want one?"

"No thanks."

She shrugs, taking a large bite. A few people are watching us, but they quickly look away when I catch them. A junior high boy stares obsessively at his GameBoy and a group of teenage girls giggle, shifting their overflowing shopping bags. Whining comes from the front of the bus, where a child is being hushed by his mother, the father seemingly asleep.

Just people. Unknowing faces. But any of these faces could be one of her memories.

I doubt she was ever pure. No being is. But for him to soil her as such, to darken her shade so much…

I can't help but be glad he, her ex-fiancé, is dead. Gone. Unable to hurt her anymore. The look on her face when she heard his voice was that of a soul breaking, imploding upon itself. I've seen flickers of something like that in the last six months. It's still inside of her. He gave air to that spark, and forced it to grow into a consuming blaze.

Only a truly black heart could do something like that. He forced himself on her, into her. He knew she would come. I wish I could've done something.

Rage boils inside of me, at him, for how he hurt her. She's quieter now, subdued, like he took part of her when he departed this world. He raped her, destroyed her. It is unforgivable. I was surprised when she was able to let me hold her. She's strong that way, refusing to let it smother her. But it seems to be affecting me as well. I'm almost _afraid_ to hold her, when I think about it now. What if I hurt her?

The rage turns, directing its slitted eyes at me. Its wings unfurl, reptilian and blood-red, flame licking at its lips. I shouldn't have let her go, especially alone. How foolish of me. I let her get hurt. Pain inserts itself in my gut, and begins twisting. This self-loathing, guilt…

A little of it is directed at her, for not telling me. How she didn't want me involved. It frustrates me.

But I can't change it. There's no point in imagining or trying. Still, this vulnerability, this new aching inside of me, still refuses to let up so soon.

Pursing my lips, I look over to her, shifting so we're closer. Almost like I have to reassure myself she's here, and not just some figment my own wishfulness feeding to my mind, as opposed to letting me drop off the edge of my own sanity. I know now, more than ever, I don't want her to go. It's strange, really, caring for her, needing her, and wanting her. Before now, I'd shunned any emotion. My family meant nothing to me. No one was ever anything more than an associate, a classmate, a stepping stone.

Kagura makes a noise, stopping to swallow before continuing. "Here's our stop!"

I shake my head a little, trying to clear it. I trust her in going to this doctor. She says she knows him and his secretaries. Apparently they run a service mostly for free, able to get what they need cheap. Mostly just helping runaways who've gotten mixed up in drugs or prostitution. I myself have never been in this world, but I have observed. Watching someone go through a bad trip has to be one of the most frightening experiences I've ever had…

Suddenly, the end of an éclair is shoved through my lips, and Kagura winks at me before scooping up her bag and heading off, the ends of the jacket she borrowed from me trailing after her.

o

The walls have been painted cranberry since I was last here. There's a few beanbag chairs for anyone waiting, but only two are filled: one by a girl with a mohawk, the other by two guys having a thumb war. Behind the desk sit the two receptionists, slacking. One is re-applying her lipstick, her hair pinned up in two buns. The other has long, lavender hair, and she doodles mindlessly on what's probably someone's file.

"Here."

I feel Sesshou-maru's hands on the collar of my coat, beginning to strip me of it. Giving him a nod, I let him take it from my shoulders and hang it on one of the brightly painted coat hooks. I think he likes playing Hero. Right now, he's probably suspicious of this place. There's a graffiti mural on one wall, and numerous names and messages scribbled in marker on top of the paint. But it's still the same place.

"Shouldn't you two be working?" I ask loudly, heading over to the desk. The two women look up, both pairs of eyes widening.

"Kagura-chan!" the first exclaims, popping the cap back on her lipstick.

"It's been so long!" The second reaches over the desk, holding out her arms. "Are you just visiting for the weekend, or what?"

"I've got a place across the city, Hari-chan," I tell her, returning her embrace. Ruri rushes over, not wanting to miss out. We stay that way for a while until we need to breathe again, and let go.

These two, Ruri and Hari, have been working here for a while. They were working for Menomaru, a powerful drug lord and a nemesis of Naraku. Trafficking had been their business, and they had been some of the best. Unfortunately, both were nearly killed in a drug bust, and wound up in the hospital.

They were sent to a detention centre for only a few years, since it was their first offense and they were minors. I had heard of these girls; they were extremely skilled at not getting caught, and apparently they never had to blow anyone besides Menomaru. In any case, they ended up joining up with the doctor here, and opening this little place with the hospital's support.

It's basically a walk-in clinic for kids who are on drugs, or have STDs, and don't want to go to the hospital. No operations or anything, though Suikotsu has helped women give birth, or so I've heard. They helped me out, and I even worked here (not for profit, mind you) for a while. But eventually I was restationed across the city, my veins pretty much clean. That's when Sesshou-maru came in, and contact between us faded.

But they were my first sort-of saviours. No one likes checking into rehab, and they, along with the doctor here, were able to get me pretty clean of drugs. I had seen what it did to people, but part of me just couldn't stop. I owe these girls a lot, and I feel kind of bad for not keeping contact. But you can't become too close. People come and go all the time, and there's no time to grieve. Most of the time you don't even know what happened to them…

"Ooh, who's this?" Hari peers over my shoulder, inspecting Sesshou-maru, who stands with his back to us. "I didn't know you went that way, Kagura-chan. She's got nice hair."

I glance back, and Sesshou-maru turns around with a sharp glare. He heard. Hari just winks, and Ruri sighs.

"Um, his name is Sesshou-maru," I tell the girls, and Hari raises an eyebrow.

"He's awful femme. So you're-"

"Yeah."

The girls squeal, and laugh a little. They haven't changed either, I guess. Sesshou-maru hmphs and leans against the wall, too dignified to sit in a beanbag chair.

A thought hits my mind, and I realize something that has changed, or at least is missing right now. I peer around the desk, eyes weeping through the empty space behind the desk. "Wasn't there a girl that was working here?"

Both pairs of eyes dart to the floor.

"Yeah," Ruri starts, "she… just a while ago, she overdosed…"

"She's in rehab," Hari continues, grabbing Ruri's hand. "It was too much for us to take care of. She was really bad, Kagura-chan, probably one of the worst I've seen. Her little sister is still in an orphanage. But we have Tsubaki working here now. She's a little older, and sort of vain, but still nice. I was afraid she was gonna become a BP, a baby prostitute, but she's all right, and lives in the same shrine Kikyou stayed and helped in."

"I'm sorry," I offer, squeezing the shoulder of each girl.

A smile comes across Ruri's face, and she leans in a little closer, whispering in my ear.

"I would feel a little more sorry for Suikotsu-san. I know Kikyou had more than a little bit of a crush on him. He's about ten years older, I know, but he still seemed to care for her, even though she sorta had a boyfriend." She gives a little lovesick sigh. "Suikotsu was the one that found her in the bathroom here one night. And after she left, he worked so hard, as if to distract himself…"

To save money, anyone who works here gets to stay the night, and they all chip in for meals. Smart, I think, and it's fun to stay up all night talking with friends, crazy as they were.

Oh yeah, and I bet you were wondering… yes, Ruri and Hari are together.

"I heard my name. Did someone call?" comes a soft male voice, and a head peeks out of the hall. Soft dark bangs fall into his eyes, as he stumbles back. "Kagura!"

A woman in her twenties walks out and turns to speak with Ruri and Hari; meanwhile, I greet this clumsy doctor.

"Suikotsu." I laugh, helping him right himself. "How are you?"

"Fine, fine," he says, scanning me with his eyes as if to check my condition, the way doctors do. Behind us, I hear Sesshou-maru give a another 'hmph'.

"Oh, this is my boyfriend, Sesshou-maru," I tell the three employees. "And these are Ruri-chan, Hari-chan, and Suikotsu."

He gives a nod, coming over to shake Suikotsu's hand. It's like two parts of me are colliding. Being here is nice, like I'm in the past, and Kagewaki wasn't… hasn't…

I thought I was free from him then. But was I?

Shivering, I wrap my arms around myself, then feel Suikotsu place a hand on my shoulder.

"So why are you here?" he asks me seriously, and I wince.

"It's a bit of a long story," I tell him. "You have people to see. I'll let you get to them first."

He tighten his lips, withdrawing his touch. "It won't be long, I promise you."

Nodding, I lean against the wall near the desk, Sesshou-maru standing beside me. Maybe I should've called, but I want to get this all out of the way as soon as possible. I hope I'm not pregnant, but even if I am, an abortion will fix it. We can forget it; we can move on.

It's like catching the flu. You can take some medicine, stay home for a few days, and after your body makes you throw it all up, you can go back to work and resume life. You'll get the flu again, most likely, but you can prevent it. And you get used to it, but it still hurts.

I'm just a little sick, that's all.

"I would kill for some coffee," comes an unfamiliar voice, and I look up to see a girl, about fifteen. She leans against the desk, looking rather tired. Black tresses fall into her face, ruby lips caught in a scowl.

"Come on, lunch was only a few hours ago," Ruri says, looking up from braiding Hari's hair.

This girl, I'm guessing to be Tsubaki, makes a face at them before putting a folder back on the shelf. "You two should do more around here."

She doesn't remind me at all of Kikyou, which is both good and bad. I didn't know Kikyou very well, but she was kind, if a little stoic. Recalling her image is a little frightening, since she looks eerily like Mrs. Higurashi's daughter, Kagome. I've almost called _her_ Kikyou a few times. Maybe they're related or something.

Sesshou-maru holds my hand now, squeezing to remind me he's here. Not going anywhere. Things can be fixated and stable now. We can keep ourselves grounded.

o

Kagura pulls her shirt back over her head, my examination of her finished. I keep my eyes to the page as I scribble down my notes. They say doctors have messy signatures, and I guess I'm part of that stereotype. I can only read my own notes because I've been doing it for so long, and had to translate all my notes from University. Wasn't all that long ago when I graduated, really.

I keep a photo of that day in the frame on my desk. There are two others that accompany it. One of a group I used to belong to, which I keep hidden, since I can't bring myself to throw it out. The other and last is the most recent, a picture of Ruri, Hari, Kikyou and myself here at the office. I still think it's amazing this place has remained open.

"So, Suikotsu?" Kagura inquires, sitting down in the chair next to me.

I sigh. "You should probably go see a real doctor."

"Come on, you know more shit than they do in the hospital."

"You're fine, except for the bruises and scrapes," I tell her, not in the mood to argue. "If your period doesn't come when it's supposed to, it might be from stress, or from a pregnancy, or it could be just a fluke. But I'm glad you came in."

She looks out the window, trying to distract herself. I had to hear the whole story, and she told it to me while I went over standard things, looking in her ears and eyes. It's horrible, what the world is these days. I had to ask her, though, if she was lying, and if her injuries were really the fault of the silver-haired individual waiting for her. I believe her that it wasn't, she looked so offended! But the words she used in her retelling were vague, muffled. I didn't pry any further than I had to; that would be unfair. I gave her a minute to break down before recomposing herself, and then recommenced the checkup.

"So, how are you?" she asks quietly, fingers resting on the windowsill.

"I told you, I'm fine." I give a little smirk. "And so is my other side, since I know that's what you're really asking. It's impossible to hide anything from you, isn't it?"

If someone comes to stay here for a while, I have to tell them, for their own safety. Though I hide it, bury it deeply with pills, my other side still breathes. It wants blood, but has not yet driven me to kill… in a number of years. I have as much control as that. And I know it hates me; it has for so long. To ignore it, I shoved my head into textbooks, graduating early from high school with scholarships to medical universities. But it still wants just a taste of death.

It's frightening, you know? To be examining someone's abrasions, and have the urge to make them bleed _more_.

"Not impossible," she says quietly, answering my previous question.

"You should see a psychiatrist," I tell her firmly, "I know you've been through a lot, and that would mess with anyone's head."

"I don't have time for a freakin' shrink," she growls. "I've had worse. It's being dealt with, Suikotsu. Leave it."

"But Kagura-"

She shakes her head firmly, not wanting to see. I can only imagine what she's seen, and I'm surprised she's not insane. Maybe she is. Maybe we all are.

"Alright," I say. "You can go, now, before that boyfriend of yours comes in here and rips my throat out."

She gives a dry laugh. Closing up is her way of protecting herself, not letting anything in.

The door shuts, and I look to my photographs. Kikyou smiles at me still. I feel bad for being so affectionate towards her, since she was a decade younger, but she seemed so old sometimes, so worn.

Some nights she would stay here instead of at the temple that offered meals and shelter for the homeless, as she was. She used to stare at the ceiling, looking like a child yet an old woman at the same time, and I stared until I couldn't look at her for the fear that came over me. She got up, unable to sleep, and curled up near me by the window. She had her own futon, as did I, while Ruri and Hari shared one in the next room. So we were in the same room those nights. Our first mistake.

It wouldn't have seemed as bad if we were older. But she was young, and it was _wrong_.

But she was the one that leaned over and kissed me. She left me speechless. She was the one with sad, aching eyes. It went no further than kisses and small embraces, but those in themselves were like a bomb dropping upon us.

She wrote me a letter from rehabilitation, but I've been afraid to answer it. I wish Kagura would hit some sense into me. I know she would if she had the chance. I envy her boldness. Unfortunately, the bright essence of it seems to have wilted.

I hope that Sesshou-maru can help her rebuild.

There is nothing worse, in my mind, than seeing someone you love broken, and knowing you didn't do anything to stop it. To watch, and know you can't fix it.

o

"How did it go?" Sesshou-maru asks as we head out. I don't think Ruri and Hari did a very good job of making him comfortable.

"I'm good. We just don't know if I'm preggers yet," I say, trying so hard to be my old self.

He nods as we walk out onto the sidewalk. The air is corrupted, and the world looks distorted. It suddenly doesn't seem so empty, and it's not just having Sesshou-maru here. No, those few moments of peace are leaving us already, aren't they?

I don't say anything. We just board the bus and head home. Maybe it's just me.

Hours later, the sun has set and we eat dinner by light bulb illumination. I insisted on being able to go to school tomorrow, and he still demands he walk me there. I slide into bed and close my eyes tightly, trying to rid myself of all thoughts besides the fact that I am okay. After hearing the dishes clink against the drying rack, I feel the covers being pulled back, and he slides into bed next to me. I freeze at first, as we lie apart. I feel sick of myself. He wouldn't want to lie with me after what's happened.

But he takes me in his arms, just lightly, acknowledging my wariness. He holds me, gives me warmth to swim in, instead of drowning in the cold, where I have been stripped of sanity. His fingers work their way into my hair, and he tells me he loves me. I burrow against his chest and feel him kiss the top of my head. Then, we become still, aside from breath and slight movement. No sex. I don't think I even want to think about that for a while.

We just lie together, in what I guess is now _our_ bed. It's warm, and I push back any tears. I want to be stronger than that for me. For him.

I think I'll be okay.

I can be okay.

end of chapter 11


	12. all these things inside my head

_life in moderation_

chapter 12: all these things inside my head

**AN**: Sorry for the wait. Bad Ebony. But I had a lot of stuff going on. But first off, _life in moderation_ was nominated for Best Characterization (Kagura), and Best Romance: Alternate Pairing for the first quarter of 2005! Please go, join and vote for me!I'll put a link in my bio. Thanks to **Numisma** for beta-ing and the nominations, along with **Gal Sharp **and **Gorgeosity Made Flesh **for seconding. Made a great birthday present.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Inuyasha.

Well, I'm not pregnant, so that's a relief.

It's been about two weeks since the whole 'incident', for lack of something else to call it, and already it's sunk into my mind, nesting with all the other vivid scenes and sounds that still stalk me. I'm not on my period anymore, which is a relief. It's a total pain in the ass (the abdomen, really), but it's better than morning sickness, or the emptiness that follows an abortion. Like there's a hole inside of you, rotting and empty, where death has decided to take residence.

There was no way I could've kept the child. It was Hitomi and me, just another reminder, only his one alive and demanding my attention. Caring for it would've caused an abundance of problems that I don't need right now. I may sound uncaring, but that's the way it is.

Telling Sesshou-maru the news was interesting, to say the least. I went with my usual approach of being blunt, the best way to avoid stuttering embarrassment or awkwardness, and just blurted it out between mouthfuls of Cheerios. He gave a little nod and poured some more coffee, and it stopped there.

He's managed to work out a schedule where he can walk me to and from classes and work without missing much of his own goings on. In one way, it's annoying that he's so paranoid, but I guess I'm glad for it. I feel safe and protected, like someone who doesn't have to run. But what I like even more is that he's taken to holding my hand. At first I was being reckless to piss him off, walking on the curb like it was a balance beam, and nearly fell into the traffic. He didn't let go after pulling me away, and it's sort of become a habit.

We're just another couple in the sea of city life, trying to keep our heads above water, exchanging breath. It doesn't feel so urgent though, not like what everyone else is experiencing. It's not sex, party, sex, movie, sex, party, argument, sex, gossip, break up, get back together, sex, etc., like it is for a lot of people. No, it's different, but what it is I can't find words for, or easily pinpoint. It's calm, constant and beautiful, warm sun on my skin as we float on our backs.

But in the same way, it's like the soft quiet wind that embraces you just before a thunderstorm.

The computer beeps as I check in the books, the late afternoon coming to a close. Reading Week is almost finished, so I've had time to relax, and make some extra money working with no schoolwork to stress about.

I roll my neck, feeling the muscles stretch as I go from left to right, catching a glimpse of the clock in the process. Sesshou-maru should be coming to pick me up soon. A bit of a smile comes across my face; I can't help it.

"Zoning out again, Kagura-chan?"

I look lazily to my left, where Mieko has just entered. "Maybe…"

Laughing, she hangs up her jacket, putting her very late lunch on the counter with her purse, keychains clanging against it. Mrs. Higurashi comes in behind her, giving me a little wave. They were just out buying some new books from the little used book store a few blocks from here. I'll have to look through them, see if there's anything worth my time (now that I have a little to spare).

"How have things been?" she asks, in her quiet librarian voice. I'm not your typical library worker; not too polite unless forced, not good with kids, not good with incompetent people… Like that bitch that was here today, complaining that she couldn't find what she was looking for, when it ended up being on the shelf where it was supposed to be the whole time! I had to struggle not to explode on the idiot!

"Fairly busy." I shrug.

"Was that girl here today?" Mieko asks.

I give her a confused face. "What girl?"

"There's a girl that's been coming on and off for the past while. I guess I didn't mention it to you. You haven't seen her, though?"

I shake my head. "What does she look like?"

Mieko frowns, closing her eyes to ring up a mental image. "Really pale, with really light hair. She's short, and looks a little thin. A teenager, I think, or a little younger. We were a little worried about her, since she looked kind of sick, and…" Her eyes open, and she glances at me. "And she looks… very lonely."

In this city, there are a hell of a lot of people.

And I only know one pale, thin, female teenager like that.

But she's not supposed to be in this city…

"Do you know her or something?" Mieko asks, walking over to me. Damnit, was I making a face?

"I don't think so…" I say quickly, turning back to my almost finished pile of books.

"Are you sure…?" She reaches a hand to my forehead, brushing my bangs away from my face. As she lets go they sweep back in, like an inky black flood.

"Positive," I say forcefully, and she raises her eyebrow a little.

It's true though. I don't know Kanna. I barely did know her when I left, and it's been quite a few years. She's 17, if she's even alive. Her birthday is March 21, but we never celebrated after elementary school. Father was fonder of her than he was of me, because she wasn't one to defy. She sat there quietly, at dinner, during our arguments, while he hit her. She hardly spoke a word to me, even when she was a child. The teachers were concerned and asked me about it, but I wormed my way around the question. _She's just shy, she's just not interested._ That wasn't it.

He beat the feeling out of her.

When we were kids, we were almost a normal family. Until we started messing up, and he found how much he liked the screams I gave. She was just a side dish. There were others he adopted. Some ran away. Some just disappeared. We weren't real siblings, and we didn't pretend. I think he sold one girl as a whore, judging from all the dirty older men that came over just before she went away. Her room in our large, perfect-looking house was nearly untouched. Just some of her clothing were missing. There were holes in the walls, that I'd heard her make one night. I don't know how he got away with taking in the kids. But everything can be covered up if you have enough connections.

I hope Kanna is still alive… She was the closest thing I ever had to family…

She didn't deserve it.

But what if it is-

The clearing of someone's throat draws me back from my thoughts, and I look up, nearly dropping the laser pen used to scan books. Sesshou-maru stands in the entrance, his hair slightly tangled from the wind. I try to wash the images of Kanna from my mind, so vacant, not wanting him to worry.

"Sesshou-maru-san, how are you?" Mrs. Higurashi greets him cheerfully.

He turns his head to acknowledge her. "All right. And yourself?"

"Pretty good," she answers. "I haven't seen you in a while. How's the book coming?"

"The editor's got his hands on it now," he says, with his little air of arrogance that's almost smug, and almost mockery.

"Well, good luck with that!" she says jokingly. I guess editors can be a bitch, from the tone she used. Speaking of which, he's coming over tonight, or so Sesshou-maru said. He did the last two books, so he can't be that bad, seeing as Sesshou-maru didn't get a new one. Some talented people can be total assholes, though.

I check in the last book, tossing it to the pile with the rest of the ones needing shelving. Grabbing my coat, I say a quick good-bye, hesitantly meeting Mieko's eye. She's not going to leave this alone, I know. I wish she would. But that's tomorrow's problem.

I turn to head for the door, feeling another, shorter body crash into mine. I stumble back, and smaller hands grab at my coat to help keep me stable.

"I'm sorry!" Kagome yelps, backing away. "It was my fault!"

"It's okay… I wasn't watching either," I say, heartbeat returning to normal. I admit, that was a little frightening.

The black-haired girl steps away, clutching her preteen clothing store bag to her chest. Looks like she went shopping. Her eyes dart up to Sesshou-maru, and she seems to stiffen as she sucks in her breath.

"Um, hi… Nishino-san," she says quietly, performing a little bow before continuing over to her mother.

I laugh. "Someone has a crush on you…"

He doesn't respond.

"Oh come on, it's cute!"

As we head for the door, I can hear their conversation vaguely. Mother and daughter.

"I got what I needed for my project, Mom, and that shirt I liked."

"Good. You're heading home now, right, Kagome?"

"Well, I was thinking of going to look around at that neat little store that just opened first, but I'd go straight home after that."

There's a pause as Mrs. Higurashi thinks. "Just don't take too long. Grandpa will be worried."

"Thanks, Mom!"

Mom…

I guess that would be me, to that child I discarded.

I wouldn't have been a good mother anyways.

It's lucky, in a way. It didn't have to see the wreck its mother is, and the asshole its father was. I couldn't take care of a child!

What's done is done; there's no use debating myself over it!

"Kagura."

Sesshou-maru's hand is resting on my shoulder, and for the third time in a short while, I'm sucked back to reality, the cold wind nipping at my cheeks as we head out onto the street. He doesn't say anything, which is nice. I'm developing a very nice migraine.

I begin to open my mouth to say 'I'm fine' but… it's not fine. Lying to him will do no good; didn't I learn that already?

"I was just thinking," I start. "Mieko mentioned a girl they'd seen in there, that looked a little sick. When they described her… it sounded like my sister. Not my sister by blood, but my adopted sister. Both of us were adopted." I don't look at him through this. I keep my eyes on the billboard up ahead, feeling his hand still on my shoulder. "And I was… I haven't seen her in a long time."

His hand moves down to grasp mine firmly, and I look up at him. Headlights cast odd shadows over us as they pass by, and his eyes catch the light, almost glowing. He was listening and it shows, though he doesn't push me for more, letting the information settle on him.

"You got siblings?" I ask, feeling substantially better.

"'Do you have siblings?'" he corrects.

"Whatever." I start into a run as we cross the street, pulling him along a little. They have this stupid counter, now, just below the Walk/Don't Walk sign, that counts how many seconds you have left to cross (because too many old people were getting run over).

"Not exactly," he answers, anyways.

"What does that mean?"

"He's my half-brother," he says bitterly. "My father had an affair with a whore from the lower class. I assume my half-brother has been adopted. The entire family corporation fell apart when I was thirteen, so I went into group homes, unable to salvage my family's already soiled honor. My mother killed herself, and my father became careless, and after ruining everything, was shot when he got himself caught up in scandal. The whore died of some disease soon after."

I nod, not sure what to say. No wonder he's so unemotional, though. I'm glad he trusts me. I feel bad for him, like I want to make it better, but I can't.

Even still, I like this. Knowing more about him.

Trusting, holding onto something…is beginning to seem a lot more worthwhile…

A _lot_ more…

o

Up in the branches of the great tree, half-hidden by the leaves that have turned red and are falling, I can see him. He seems to be thinking, since he doesn't see me. I guess it's better he hasn't, so he doesn't have as much a chance to run away. He comes to this park a lot. Well, he doesn't really have anywhere else to go…

"Inuyasha!"

He startles, grabbing onto a branch near him for support. His eyes flash angry gold as he turns to face me. "Shit, Kagome! I almost fell!"

"Sorry." I sigh, looking up at him. "Come down!"

"Why?"

"Look, I brought you some food!"

"Feh. I don't need your charity."

My eyes narrow at him. "I'll come up and get you if you don't."

"Ha! I'd like to see that!" he snaps, but in a few seconds he's dropped down in front of me, arms crossed over his chest.

"Aren't you cold?" I ask, pointing to his T-shirt.

He snorts. "I'm fine, girl."

Sighing, I begin rummaging through my bag. While I was out shopping, I decided to get some snacks for him. I met Inuyasha a while ago in the park here. He was as reluctant and rude as he is now, but he talks to me sometimes. He doesn't have any family, only himself and the streets, so I decided to help him out.

"Here." I hand him a package of dry noodles, which he quickly snatches from my hand, hopping onto the park bench situated beneath the tree. I can't hold back my giggles as I sit on the back of the seat, watching him.

After a while, he turns back to glare at me. "Staring problem."

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

"What, you brought drinks too?" he asks eagerly.

"I meant a 'thank you'." I sigh, taking the hot chocolate from the other bag. It was a hassle, not spilling it while still carrying everything else.

He takes a small sip, yelping. "Fuck! It's hot!"

"That is why it's called _hot_ chocolate. Don't curse." I rest my chin in my hands, watching him enjoy his meal. He's too proud to beg, often. I know he falls asleep here sometimes though, and people will slip money in his pockets. I wish he would go to the shelter and get adopted, but that wouldn't suit him. People give him a hard time for everything.

"Hey, Inuyasha?"

"Yeah, what?"

"Do you have a brother?"

He stops suddenly, putting down the hot chocolate. "Not really."

"That doesn't make sense. You do or you don't. You can't 'not really' have a brother."

"Well I do!" he snaps, grip tightening on the cup. The muscles in my legs tense up. I know he's capable of hurting me but… he won't. I know he won't.

"I just saw someone that looked like you," I say quietly, not wanting to provoke him further. "And I was curious. I thought maybe you could live with him or-"

"That bastard wouldn't lift a finger for anyone he deems below his uppity ass!" Inuyasha snaps, taking a large gulp of hot chocolate.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry for shit that's not your fault, Kagome. That's how people end up getting hurt." He finishes up the meal and stands, beginning to head off.

"If you're cold," I yell to him, "go to the library for a while! It's better than freezing to death!"

"Mind your own business!" he shouts back, that stubborn look still on his face, long silver hairs brushing against his cheeks as the wind tosses them. He wrinkles his nose and continues walking, ignoring me.

But under his breath, I'm sure I hear a "Thank you."

o

Oh, the joys of Advil!

I lay on our bed, my head throbbing. No matter how many pillows I bury it under, it won't stop! Sesshou-maru would only let me take the number of pills the bottle recommended, and I'm in no mood to properly argue (especially with him), so I'm stuck here, dying, until it decides to work.

I roll over, bumping my head into the wall. Groaning, I pull myself up. Maybe getting a glass of water or something will help. With the sudden change of state, the blood rushes from my head, and I dizzily stumble forwards, hands finding the door before I crash into it.

I wince, reminded sickly of the 'incident'. That's why I hate silences. When I lie awake, my thoughts begin attacking me. There's nothing to distract me as I'm bombarded by them.

Clutching my head, I head down the short hallway, glad the lights are off. As I enter the living room-ish space, I notice Sesshou-maru standing opposite a small man sitting on a couch. I guess this is the editor.

My first thought is that he looks like a frog. I can't help it; he does! His eyes are large, and his skin looks an odd texture. He sits funny too, hunched over a stack of papers. He makes a face as he looks up at me.

"W-who are you?" he asks in a squawky voice. Ugh, a frog/chicken.

Sesshou-maru clears his throat. "This is my girlfriend. Kagura." He motions to the little man. "Jaken. My editor."

I give a feeble wave, trying not to laugh. "I'm just gettin' some water, then I'm going back to bed."

Jaken makes another face, and turning what he seems to think is discreetly to Sesshou-maru, he says, "Sesshou-maru-sama, you never mentioned-"

"Are my personal affairs any of your business, Jaken?"

"No, Sesshou-maru-sama."

Forget editor. This guy's acting like a servant or something!

I grab a cup and quickly fill it with tap water, splashing a bit on my face. I take a swig, wincing. The water is bitter and metallic, leaving an aftertaste I'm not all that fond of in my mouth. My feet drag as I head back into the other room, onto the cheap grey carpet that covers the floor. I lean on the couch, eyes scanning the little letters that cover the page, black on crisp white. This just makes my headache worse, and I blink a few times, taking another sip of water. This isn't making it any better at all.

"You should try and sleep again," Sesshou-maru says, as Jaken eyes me. "We won't be very loud."

I scowl, knowing he's right. "Fine. Don't have too much fun without me."

I wonder if a nice alcoholic beverage would make the headache go away for a while…

No, that definitely _won't_ work (and will just give me a bigger one in the morning). Man, when was the last time I got hammered? We have beer that I drink often, but I haven't been all-out drunk for a long time. Seeing Sesshou-maru drunk would be amusing. Knowing him, though, he'll have a high tolerance and will barely be affected while I'm stumbling around. Still, I'll have to find out sometime…

I collapse in bed again, after setting my cup on the headboard. Wrapping my blanket tight around me, I close my eyes tightly in hopes I'll get to sleep before I start regretting.

That hope turns out to be a lost cause.

Hitomi's face comes first. I pull the blanket over my head and try not to picture him. Whenever I see him, he's dead, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth as he stares at me from across the room. Everything is vivid, as if I'm really there. I'm not, though, I keep telling myself, but I'm still trapped there.

One would think seeing him dead would give me peace. It doesn't. And again, I begin to lose my hold on what I know and what is real to me. Same as every night. I can't keep it from stretching out and ripping, my fingers cold and numb and beginning to slip.

_Go away!_

My thoughts are rapidly moving, from one scene to the next, sprinkling me with little pieces of memory, pieces of things I hoped for, some that I still do.

Before, I wanted never to get tied down. But I like it here. I want to spend longer here. I can't capsize yet. I can graduate college, and get a real job in design and advertising, or maybe working in one of the boutiques in the city. I could get married. Not too long ago I would have laughed at the idea, but I'm beginning to want these things, more and more.

But how can I expect things to turn out? I've never had control. I always end up getting used or some shit like that. How long can I keep this up?

I bang my head against the wall, able to smell the paint that coats the cool surface.

Maybe I should keep an eye out for that girl Mieko mentioned. Maybe it is Kanna. My 'sister'. We were never all that close. Maybe we can be. She was always so unemotional, like a ghost drifting from room to room in our big dirty lie of a house. They painted everything white. She dressed to match. It always smelled fake.

I can't keep running away and pretending.

But I'm still doing it.

I tell myself I won't, but I do anyways.

Still, why would she be in this city? We lived in another, an hour or two from here, where all of Naraku's 'friends' lived as well.

Cold, I pull the blanket more around me, not wanting to get out of bed and get a sweatshirt. My hands prickle with numbness, and a lump has developed in my throat, seemingly impossible to get out. The throbbing in my head has become like background music, an unending loop that just plays and plays.

It has to stop somewhere.

I'll find something real.

o

Every night, the nightmares come after Kagura. She mumbles things, most on the verge of nonsensical, and tosses violently, clinging to herself, or the pillows, or me. I've considered getting her some sleeping pills, or something to help her, but medicine usually makes things worse, and she'll become dependent on them. I've tried to wake her up gently, but rarely does it work.

I close the door to our bedroom softly, as an attempt not to wake her. She seems to be sleeping serenely, but as I draw closer, I can see her eyes are open, watching me.

"Can't sleep?"

"What do you think?"

Without bothering to change from my day clothes, I lay next to her. Tiredly, she nestles into me, but I can feel her muscle are tight and aware, twitching as I put my hand to her forehead to check for a fever. To my relief, she feels normal, if a little cold from the temperature.

"How did your book thing go?" she asks, brushing my hand away.

"We have some more sessions, but it should be shipped off to the printers soon."

She nods. "Your editor looks like a frog-man."

I guess that's true. Jaken was part of my father's council, and stuck with him when everything was falling apart. Severely annoying, but he is loyal. He demanded being the editor of my work when I submitted it to the company he worked for, having switched jobs after the company crashed and burned.

Kagura's hands press against my shoulders, and she pushes me onto my back, crouched over me. There's barely time to react as her lips touch mine, first coyly, but then firm and determined. I take hold of her waist, kissing her back, both body and mind excited to do things I've wondered about and wanted to do. Still, I hold back.

The 'incident' was only two weeks ago. He hurt her. More than that, he put her through mental and physical torture. She was broken when she came back.

I don't want to do that to her. I have absolutely no intention of ever doing anything of the sort. But accidents do happen.

My father just happened to love two different women. My mother couldn't take the betrayal. He didn't want her to die. But love kills. Love likes to set you on fire and watch you burn. I can't help but wonder what will happen to us.

Because yes, I do love her.

I pull her close to me, almost feeling my own self shake. It's too soon to go very far. Too soon could break her.

My movements elicit a bit of a sigh from her, and her hands move to my neck. Hopefully, she'll be able to sleep tonight.

I won't make the same mistakes my father did.

End of Chapter 12


	13. wearing at the edges

_life in moderation_

chapter 13: wearing at the edges

**AN:** No, this fic has not been discontinued.

It's thunder storming outside, but I really wanna get this posted! I'm sorry it took so long! Over two months, I know. Sigh. Here ya go. Thanks to Numisma for beta-ing and keeping me from falling in plot holes.

Oh, and we passed 200 reviews! I love you guys!

**disclaimer: **I don't own Inuyasha.

It would be very convenient if the entire world would just be sensible and not have things start at obscene hours in the morning. Then everyone could sleep in, and no one would pissed off because they aren't getting enough sleep or because they're late or whatever.

However, the world isn't sensible like that, and the jackasses that make the stupid rules society follows are obviously morning people. Thus, everyone has to get up way too early with them and suffer.

It's completely stupid, if you ask me.

I rock back on the legs of my chair, one arm braced against the rounded edge of the counter, the other holding my mug of coffee. My fingernails rap on the counter to the beat of the song playing on the radio, the lyrics inaudible under the buzz of bad reception. I take a little sip of the deep chestnut drink, feeling the steam graze my cheeks as it floats upwards and away, and hope the caffeine will quickly take effect. Really, who could live without coffee? After I swallow, I can feel the hot liquid sloshing around inside my cold body. Autumn sucks in that way; sometimes the days might be freakishly warm, but at night and in the mornings it gets freezing cold. Still, I can't help but like November for a few reasons, and one stands out at me a bit more than the others do.

"Hey!" I call over to Sesshou-maru, who sits calmly at the other side of the table, the bottom half of his face obscured by yesterday's edition of one of the city newspapers. "Guess what day it is in a week!"

His dark honey colored eyes glance up from the paper in a somewhat interested fashion, one eyebrow cocked. "This is a trick question, isn't it?"

"Maybe."

The newspaper makes that crinkling sound newspaper always makes as he turns the page, eyes scanning the headlines. "I don't know. Tell me."

"November thirtieth. It's my birthday," I say, too tired to play a guessing game with him (as fun as that would be). Well, apparently that's my birthday. That's what I was always told it was…

"Really." Sesshou-maru's eyes flicker to mine one more, though his bangs, hanging in damp strings, are getting in the way of his sight. He reaches a nimble hand up to push them away.

"Yes, really. And I'm not just saying that to make you get me something."

"Twenty-two, right?" he asks. Well, at least the man knows my age.

"Yep." A thought strikes me and I let the front two legs of my chair come back down with a thud so I can lean across the table. "Hey, when's your birthday? I don't think you ever told me."

"It's not important."

"Oh, come on." I say, resting my chin on the heel of my hand and giving a mock pout. I can feel crumbs scattered over the table digging into my elbow.

"January," he states.

"When in January?"

He gives me a look of annoyance. I smile innocently in return.

"January sixteenth. I'll be twenty-four," he says finally, in a 'this conversation ends here' kind of tone. I decide to play along and shut up. It was just a little game; no need to piss him off. I can be a pain in the ass, but it's vital to know your limits.

Twenty-four… To be honest, he seems a bit older than that to me. Just the way he carries himself, the way he talks, everything. He's a lot smarter and more mature than the majority of 24 year olds I've met, that's for sure. Like I've said, I can't really see him going to a party; mosh-pitting; head banging… Rebellious teen Sesshou-maru. Now there's an interesting image. You know, he wouldn't look too bad with an eyebrow ring…

As this train of thought rambles onward, I begin to giggle in the direction of my breakfast of toast and an apple. Sesshou-maru must've noticed, because he's giving me this weird look.

"What are you laughing at?"

A pause.

"I'm imagining you with a mohawk," I answer.

A moment passes, and a smile creeps over his lips. What almost sounds like laughter reverberates from his throat as he closes his eyes, looking rather amused.

Ladies and gentlemen, I do believe I have just managed to make the great Sesshou-maru laugh.

It's not like it hasn't happened before. Sometimes he'll laugh at something I've said or done, but those times are few and far between. I feel kinda proud of myself for it, too, as stupid as that sounds. Sometimes he seems almost robotic, but when he laughs, or does something else weird and human, it's… I'm not sure. But I look forward to those moments. It's cute how particular he is about some odd little things, too.

The newspaper crackles as he folds it, laying it down on the table beside a pile of mail we've yet to go through; bills and fliers for the most part.

"I won't be able to walk you back from class today," he says to me. "I've got another meeting with the publishing company that will probably last an excruciatingly long time."

"It's fine. I'm a big girl."

"I know."

The dishes drop into the sink with a clatter, metal scraping against plastic. From the window in the living room, beams of hazy sunlight come in to strike the metal faucet, the shine burning color onto my vision. I blink in an attempt to rid my mind of the sudden jolt of pain, but it's still there, just as vivid against the unseeing black.

o

"It's fine. I'm a big girl."

She says it in almost a teasing tone, a mocking smile playing across her undressed lips. But underneath the scarlet glaze of her eyes is a displaced depth and it frightens me. Kagura acts so well, I think she's convinced herself that it's true.

She's painted everything over in a lovely haze.

It's not that she's pretending everything is perfect. No, it's far from. Denying the flaws that mar out daily routine is a large stretch; one would have to be lacking in sanity to actually believe it.

She's simply pretending she's unaffected by it all, that she's strong enough to not even by fazed by those… events…

Her nightmares are getting worse, I think.

I glance over at her without thinking, only to find her staring blankly in the direction of the sink.

"Kagura?"

She jerks forward, looking bemusedly up at me.

"What? Oh." She laughs. "Must've drifted off there. I need to go get ready, don't I?"

I nod, but she's already scampered off to our bedroom to change, footsteps quick and light over the floor.

o

Life likes to screw you over.

I pick up another stray stone lying on the steps and chuck it at the cans piled in the alleyway below me. It hits one on the side with a sharp clang, but it doesn't fall over. It's hard to throw rocks at things properly when you're sitting on a fire escape.

Life screws some people more than others though. I guess you could call it rape.

I pick up another stone and squint at my target.

It screwed Mom over big time. I don't remember much of her, since I was only eight when she died. She loved Father, and I know he loved her, but that wasn't enough. After he died, the company went bankrupt. Everyone knew she was sick, even then, but no one tried to help. We didn't have enough money for medicine, and we had no way to get it. It was useless and pointless to even try.

So… the inevitable happened.

After she passed away, they sent me to group home after group home, each one not being able to 'handle' me. Doesn't matter. I hated each and every one of them. People like them don't get along with people like me, and that's the way things work.

I only have one living relative that I know of, and that's Sesshou-maru. I don't know what happened to him; I'm absolutely nothing like him, and I don't really care. In fact, I hope the bastard's dead!

The stone flies too high, going a few inches over the can to hit the garbage bag behind it. My stomach growls a little, drowned out by the louder sounds of traffic coming from the street. I don't want to beg for money, and stealing is often more trouble than it's worth, so I'll just starve for a bit. It's not a big deal, really. Kagome'll bring me food sometimes, and I have other friends. Survival in this city isn't that difficult as long as you make connections and don't get stupid. Spending all your cash on drugs, that's stupid.

That's stupid, all right…

A red hot flash of anger streaks through my mind, and I whip the rock across the alleyway. It ricochets off the brick wall of the building across from me and onto the ground. I cross my arms over my chest and lean back against the black bars of the fire escape, the metal cold and sticky against the nape of my neck. The weather's getting worse. Last winter wasn't too bad, because I slept in the temple a lot of the time…

I close my eyes, and slowly let the breath escape from my lungs. It's no use trying _not_ to think about it; it only gets worse that way. There's nothing I can do about it now.

Kikyou.

I met her a year and a half ago in the park. She was sitting under the tree where I was trying to sleep, and offered me part of her meal. In response, I called her ugly and told her I didn't want her goddamned pity. She kept coming back from time to time, though, and we started talking after a while.

The girl was insane. Her parents had died in a car crash, leaving her sister in an orphanage. She ran away from there, and ended up staying in a temple. In exchange for her meals and a place to sleep, she did some chores there, while also working a few days a week at an independent clinic across town. She was nice, if a little serious, and too kind for her own good. The temple took in quite a few stray kids, so she invited me to stay there in the winter with her.

That girl…

Do you know what's really stupid?

I think I fell in love with her.

I think I still _am_ in love with her.

I sink my teeth into my lower lip, my nerves sending screams of torment into my brain for me to experience. The memories always come back at the worst moments, bombarding me with emotions I can't handle.

Yeah, I know it's seems ignorant for a fourteen year old to say he loves a girl, but…

It doesn't matter anymore. We got in a fight because she was getting into some bad shit and some bad people to go along with it. That idiot wench. The next day, the doctor where she works found her in the bathroom and drove her to the hospital. She overdosed on something. I think it was heroin. She's in rehab now, in some teen-help place in the next city. I haven't been to visit her… as much as I sometimes want to.

If that wasn't bad enough, Kagome had to come along and make a nuisance of herself… God, the first time I saw her, I thought she was Kikyou. I mean, they do look alike, and she is kind and all, but… No, Kagome's tons different from Kikyou. She's some sheltered little priss who just doesn't get it.

"Hey. What're you thinking about?"

My head snaps up, hitting the railing of the fire escape. I reach my hand up to rub the spot, glaring at my visitor, who smiles like he thinks it's _funny_.

"What do you want, Miroku?" I ask, letting him know he's not wanted. "Shouldn't you be in school?"

He shrugs with a little half-smile, leaning against the wall opposite me. "I'm on lunch break, but thank you for your concern."

I drop my hand from my head and run it over the ground until I find another decent sized stone. Miroku raises an eyebrow, as if he suspects I'll hit him with it. The guy really pisses me off sometimes…

I met him on the streets a while ago. Well, it was more me laughing at him as he got slapped time after time by random girls he tried to hit on, but whatever. He's not a street kid; he and his mom live in an apartment near the high school. Kagome seems to know him somehow, which isn't such a good thing. I doubt he really would, but part of me is still paranoid he'll molest her or something… such a pervert, that one.

"You were thinking about _Kagome_, weren't you?" he asks.

I turn to glare. "Why the hell would you think that, you perv?"

He sighs in an overdramatic manner. "Inuyasha, my friend, I was just making a casual assumption…" His smile turns devilish. "Besides, she's your girlfriend. Why wouldn't you be thinking about her?"

"She's not my girlfriend!"

"So you're telling me you just happen to hang around with a pretty, well-off girl, and nothing's going on between you two?" he asks incredulously.

"Shut up about her!" I snap. "She's three years younger than you; you shouldn't be thinking she's _pretty_ and shit! Besides, she's definitely not!"

"Oh, come on. She's two years younger than you, and yet you-" He stops to duck the rock I pitched at his head. "Hey! That wasn't nice!"

"Get outta here, Miroku, before I'm forced to injure you!" I say, slouching back against the fire escape. After a few moments, I hear footsteps exiting the alleyway. I let out my breath, severely annoyed. He knows he gets to me when he says stuff like that, and I know he has fun doing it.

That bastard…

I don't like Kagome.

I don't want to get close to Kagome.

I _can't_ get close to Kagome.

I can't let her get hurt…

o

Mieko insists on playing the radio quietly behind the desk in the library. She claims it helps her work, and that it makes us seem friendlier. Though I agree that putting on a CD can help me concentrate, I wish she wouldn't insist on having the radio set on the local pop station. The majority of what's played is overproduced crap. Currently, some teen sensation is wailing his heart out to his girlfriend/best friend/lover about how all he wants is to _loooove_ her. _My God._ It's enough to drive one insane!

Glancing around first to make sure Mieko isn't near, I dart my hand over to turn off the radio. Any more of that and I would've gotten a headache. Mission completed, I turn back to bar-coding some new books, sans the cheesy love ballads.

I don't really agree with most of what I hear in those songs… it's not really a beautiful, glorious thing that conquers all effortlessly. I know sometimes I want to strangle Sesshou-maru, and he can get pretty fed up with me. All the same, I can't help but forgive him, and kiss him, and fall asleep beside him without plans to run the next morning. I came into the relationship cautious, not taking it too seriously. It was a reluctant friendship that somehow… turned out to be a lot more. I don't know if I could imagine my life without him now. I don't think I'd be as strong as I am without him helping me. As cliché as it all sounds, it's true. At least I think it's true.

Books bar-coded, I head over to the Young Adult section to shelve them. A gothic looking boy sits on the couch, flipping through a music magazine with a heavy metal band on the front. I'm a little disappointed that only he's here, as I was hoping I'd see Kanna. She hasn't been in for a while, according to Mieko who saw her last week and tried to strike up conversation (failing miserably). I find myself looking for her, suspecting every light-haired individual I see on the street. It's never her, though. Maybe it never was her in the first place. Still…

I make my way back to the desk, finding two people by the CD rack. One is crouched over it, picking idly through the selection with his/her (I can't tell from here) fingers, while the other leans against the desk, looking bored.

"Would you hurry up?" he asks, fingering the long braid his dark hair is pulled back into.

The first looks up from the rack, displeased. "Why are you in such a rush? It's only just after four."

"Well, unlike you I have classes and-"

"Alright, alright." The one by the CD's (whom I now can see is a _very_ femme looking boy) pouts and picks up his small stack of books, mostly novels. Pressing them to his chest so he can carry them all over, he saunters to the desk where I am and carefully sets them down in front of me, sending me a bit of a glare. He begins shuffling through the pockets of his jeans, a worried look quickly coming over his face.

The other chuckles lightly, pulling out his wallet. The leather is faded and stained, wearing at the edges. "You gave your card to me so you wouldn't lose it, remember, Jakotsu?"

This 'Jakotsu' looks over at him, his frazzled expression quickly changing to a relieved one as the guy with the braid pulls a library card from the wallet and holds it between his fingers. I can't help but think he looks a little familiar as he leans over to give the shorter man the card, and we meet eyes just briefly. His eyes sweep quickly over me before glancing away.

"Sorry," the one at the desk says coldly, sliding the card across the desk. His fingers are dainty and the nails in quite a bit better shape than mine. There's a scar running across his first two knuckles, just a thin and jagged ivory line.

"No problem," I say sarcastically, returning his coldness, as I take the card from him and putting it through the machine. He glances out the window, absentmindedly pulling at the bottom of his pink T-shirt, a picture of The Clash on the front.

I quickly scan the books, my hands used to the movements and able to go through them without much difficulty or hesitance. I tap my fingers against the edge of the desk as the slip with due dates prints. It almost seems too quiet without the radio on. Maybe I'll have to convince Mieko to tune it to a half-decent station.

"Here you go," I say, folding the slip and tucking it inside the book on the top of the pile. "Due back in three weeks."

"Thanks," he says, again in an unfriendly manner, scooping them up to put into the plastic bag hanging from his elbow. His eyes flicker curiously up at me a few times, and when I catch him a snake-like grin spreads across his face.

"Sorry." He glances down at my nametag and squints. "Kaju… Kagura. You just look kinda familiar and I was trying to see if I could remember where I'd… Oh, I remember. Bankotsu-aniki!" He turns to his friend. "Doesn't she take the same class as you Thursday afternoons?"

The one called Bankotsu glances over lazily. "Oh? Yeah, now that you say that, I'm pretty sure that's where I'd seen her before."

"I knew it!" Jakotsu exclaims giddily. Jeez, did this guy have a _lot_ of coffee this morning, or is he this hyperactive by nature?

Bankotsu sighs, sounding agitated. "Come on, we need to get going."

"Fine," huffs Jakotsu, turning back to me.

"Well, it was nice to meet you," he says detachedly (it's obvious he doesn't mean it), then turns around to face the empty space where Bankotsu used to be.

"Bankotsu-aniki, wait!" he calls, running towards Bankotsu, who had already begun walking away. A few steps away, Jakotsu jumps, landing on Bankotsu's back. The force is almost enough to knock the shorter one off his feet, causing Bankotsu to stumble a few steps forwards, swinging his arms around to hold Jakotsu stable.

"You're acting like a schoolgirl," he mutters, but as he glances back, I can see a smile on his face, clearing stating he enjoys the attention.

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you…" Jakotsu says in a playful tone as the doors swing shut behind them, and I'm left again with this empty sound of silence.

I get off work at five and head straight home. It's a little lonely without Sesshou-maru to walk with me. Lately we've been getting quite a bit… closer in a physical fashion. Maybe it's my constant griping about the goddamned weather (I hate the cold, and am constantly dragging him out to get hot chocolate) or it could be… I dunno. It has been difficult at times, due to those things that happened. Sometimes, in my mind, his hands will turn into Hitomi's, and in my ear, I can hear the bastard's voice whispering… I can't help it; I just freak out when that happens! Sesshou-maru's been pretty good about it, though. Sometimes I think I don't deserve him at all.

As if to spite me, the apartment is cold when I get home. It's not like it's _freezing,_ as it's not yet December, but the change is very noticeable. I put on a jacket of Sesshou-maru's that's been left hanging over the couch and head into the kitchen. After searching through our cupboards, I have concluded that we are in dire need of a trip to the grocery store. That and the cupboards hate me, as quite a few of them make a short screaming sound as you open them, which isn't exactly something you _want_ to hear alone in a cold, quiet apartment. Then you begin seeing things out of the corner of your eye… watching you.

If I'm not careful, I might just end up driving myself insane…

o

My entire body has gone stiff from sitting all day, which isn't made any better by the less than warm weather we've been getting lately. It's been rather cold this year, much to Kagura's annoyance more than mine. If it keeps up like this, she'll be nagging me to go out for hot chocolate almost every night.

I find her on the couch in the living room, a blanket thrown over her legs and my jacket on her shoulder. In her hands is a bowl of violently yellow noodles. They almost look toxic.

She raises her head somnolently.

"Oh, hey. There's some KD in the microwave for you."

"Some what?"

"Kraft Dinner." She motions to her bowl. "It's healthy."

I bet.

When I return from the kitchen, her head is lolled back against the couch, naked eyelids closed halfway.

"You aren't getting enough sleep," I comment, sitting down beside her. The heat from the bowl feels like it's gnawing away at my flesh, so I set it on the newspaper I carried it over with.

"_I'm fine_," she insists. "I'm a little sleepy, so what?"

She crosses her arms around her bowl, obviously annoyed. "How was the meeting thingy?"

"Fine." I shrug, playing along. "I've still got a lot of editing to go through."

"Will the frog man be coming back?"

I smirk. "It's likely."

She snorts and goes back to her noodles. I pick at them but eat little. I have a hard time swallowing something of such an unnatural color.

The newspaper catches my eye. Recollection of what I read this morning begins thrashing in my head, an itch begging to be scratched. I push it to the far corners of my mind and ignore it. Or at least I try.

"Kagura." I set my bowl down on the table.

She looks up, a little puzzled.

"What was your father's name again?"

Her eyes narrow and she rushes to swallow her mouthful of macaroni. "What the hell? Why are you asking that?"

She watches me warily as I reach for the newspaper. Its crinkling is loud in the stagnant quiet, almost unnerving. Nonetheless, I flip through, mentally counting pages until I find it. I run my eyes over it quickly, listening to Kagura's anxious breath.

"It was Naraku, right?"

She starts at this, her nails digging into the worn fabric of the sofa.

"I mentioned him once, maybe twice," she says in a low, threatening voice. "Why are you bringing this up? What-"

Being formal with her will get me nowhere now that she's this on edge, so I shove the newspaper at her, gesturing to the article.

"Read."

o

**Family Murdered, Police Puzzled**

_On the morning of November 20th, police officer Taijiya Hiruka and his wife Rei failed to report for duty. Assuming it was nothing but car trouble or a family crisis, their fellow officers didn't take action until the next morning, when various attempts to contact the Taijiyas didn't work. A single officer, who has asked not to have his name in print, was sent over to investigate. That morning was to become one he would never forget._

'_When I got to the house,' the officer explained, 'it was quiet; they lived in a peaceful neighborhood. After knocking on the door for five minutes or so, I went to the kitchen window…'_

_Here the officer begins to look sick._

'_They were just lying there… blood all over everything…'_

_The officer's description was too grotesque to put in our newspaper. All we can say is that the bodies were mangled, but still identifiable._

_Hiruka and Rei were confirmed dead when the ambulance arrived. However, their son Kohaku (nine years old) was found alive, but just barely. He's been through quite a few operations to remove bullets and repair damaged tissue, but the doctors expect him to survive. Kugutsu Naraku, a wealthy businessman who has recently moved to the city, has offered to adopt the boy, and has already taken time out of his hectic schedule to visit poor Kohaku. It's a refreshing change to see someone on the top of the ladder acting so kindhearted and benevolent._

_Unfortunately, the Taijiyas' daughter Sango (fourteen years) is nowhere to be found. Hopefully, she was somewhere else when her family was so brutally slaughtered._

_It's a very sad day in this city when such things happen in a family's own home. We urge anyone who has information to contact the police info hotline at 1-867-555-3764. Remember to lock your doors and have your children in before dark. We wouldn't want such a tragedy to repeat itself._

I reread the paragraph mentioning my father again about three times. Kindhearted? Benevolent? That's the biggest pile of bullshit I've ever heard!

But… he's here? _In this city?_

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck! Fuck!

First Hitomi, now him? Why is this happening?

"I was going to ask you this morning but decided to wait," Sesshou-maru tells me quietly, reaching over to put his hand on my knee.

I shy away from the touch. A frown slithers across his face, but he doesn't push me.

"He's here…" I mumble, as if saying the idea aloud will help me comprehend. I still can't quite believe it. So Kanna probably was the one Mieko saw after all.

My hands clutch the newspaper, causing large wrinkles to spread across its surface. I narrow my eyes at his name. Unlike before, with that goddamned phone call and Hitomi, I harshly refuse the urge to cry.

My father has no ties to me whatsoever. We are not the same blood. He doesn't own me like he used to. I'm not that stupid little girl he could toss around and play with like some vapid rag doll.

"Kagura."

I wince at the firmness of his voice.

"I'm going to bed," I mutter, mashing the newspaper into a large ball, depositing it on the floor as I stand to leave. I'm halted in mid-step as Sesshou-maru catches my arm, firmly holding me in place.

"Looks like another one of the secrets about your past has resurfaced," he comments.

I sneer. "There's a reason I never talked about it, you know."

"What are you going to do?"

I turn my head, eyes focused in an accusative glare. "If you think I'll go to him like I did Hitomi, then you're just plain stupid."

The hold he has on me breaks as I violently pull away, taking a few steps away. I can't handle this right now… I need sleep, that's what I need. Sleep and some pills.

"Well, what are you going to do, then?" He waits a while, as if he expects me to answer. I remain uncharacteristically silent. "Nothing?"

"I'm going to bed," I repeat, enunciating it clearly, so he knows I'm not going to continue fighting him. Not right now. Maybe later. Not now. Things inside my head are laughing and screaming and weeping all at once. I can barely…

Oh, Sesshou-maru's talking. I focus in on him, trying to ignore my chaotic brain on overload.

"…same mistake as last time. I won't let you be reckless and..."

I put a hand to my temple, guilt seeping through the many holes in my chest, coating my skin like heavy oil.

"Shut up!" I shout to him, taking hasty steps away.

_Away away away._

I feel his hand on my shoulder, spinning me around to face him. My back slaps against the wall and his jacket begins to slip down one shoulder, but I can't be bothered.

It's odd, and almost entrancing… I feel like I'm half here… half somewhere else. My head feels light but my body is heavy and sweating.

Sesshou-maru glares down at me, his hands pressing my shoulders to the wall. His fingers are cold… they feel like the legs of a large spider…

Things come into a sudden sharp focus.

"Why do you insist on hiding these things from me?" he growls.

I've been vehemently returned to this pounding, aching world, his words like little bombs exploding inside of my ears. My muscles all stiffen and I feel small and trapped by his large body, which could easily crush and-

My mind laughs, and dares him to hurt me. It's been a while since anyone has hit me…

Hell, what am I thinking?

"Let go of me," I hiss, trying to keep my voice from faltering.

His eyes dart over me, losing the primal edge they had just a few moments ago, and his hands lift from my shoulders to retract to his sides. His muscles slacken as he takes a small step backward, giving me some space to breathe.

He wouldn't actually have-

"I didn't mean to…" he starts, but I'm really not in the mood to converse. Especially after that.

I duck around him, ignoring his presence completely and heading to the fridge. After grabbing three bottles of beer - you know what? Let's make it four - I head to the bedroom. It's only eight, but I don't really care right now.

"I'm going to bed," I say icily.

He stares at the wall, shifting only slightly. I'm surprised he doesn't chastise me on the bottles in my arms, condensation dampening my shirt.

"Good night."

I close the door behind me and turn off the light, letting my mind become numb and slippery with alcohol, any worry sliding away and out of sight.

end chapter 13


	14. knotted thread

_life in moderation_

chapter 14: knotted thread

The un beta-d version.

**AN**: Sorry, but we can't do review responses anymore. If you have a question, email me. Righto, this is the unbeta-d version. I sent it to Numisma a while ago, but either the email got screwed up or she's on vaca or busy or something, so I decided to post this now. (shrug) I apologize for any grammatical errors and/or crappiness. I love each and every one of you who reads (and reviews).

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Inuyasha.

"Suikotsu-san?"

I look up from my papers, blinking away my drowsiness. The city is dark outside my small office, headlights from the cars that drive by flashing in through the windows almost constantly. I direct my eyes to the doorway, finding Tsubaki standing there with the phone in her hands and a displeased expression on her scarlet-painted lips.

"Phone," she says simply, handing it to me.

"Thank you, Tsubaki-chan. Shouldn't you be asleep in by the temple by now, though?"

She scoffs. "It's not that late. I was about to go, but Ruri-san and Hari-san said they were going out for a bit, and would get me a coffee, so I'm waiting for them. They should be back soon."

"Heh… they might be a while," I say to her, putting the phone to my ear. "Hello?"

"Um, hello. This is the Tokyo West hospital calling," comes the hoarse female voice, "Is this Eisei Suikotsu? The man who brought in the girl the other day?"

"Yes, yes it is." I lean forwards a bit, slightly worried. "Why? Did she…"

"No, no, she's alive," the voice laughs. "The doctor's were a bit surprised, actually. They didn't think she would pull through, but that girl's got an amazing will. She's in recovery now."

"I see…" I murmur, relieved. Coming back from the grocery store the other day, I had decided to take a little detour, and stumbled across a half-conscious girl, bleeding from quite a few different places. Knowing the situation was way out of my hands, I called an ambulance and stayed with her until it arrived, doing what I could to keep her awake, then riding with them to the hospital. It was disheartening, really… she looked so young…

"In any case, the doctors are wary about asking her questions too soon. You know, trauma and all," the woman continues. "They were wondering if you could come in and try and get something out of her. A name, maybe something about her family."

"But I don't-"

"You don't know her, yes, but you were the one that found her and called the ambulance, so she would probably be more comfortable talking to you than someone she hasn't seen before. Besides, you're a doctor yourself," the woman tells me firmly. "You won't be coming in today, of course, but sometime next week. We'll give you another call as to when, mm-kay?"

"Alright… I guess."

"Thank you. Have a nice night."

I hear a short click and I'm greeted with empty dial tone. Tsubaki takes the phone and cocks one of her finely plucked eyebrows slightly, but says nothing. With a sigh, I go back to the paper sitting on my desk, on top of the work I finished this afternoon so I would have no excuse not to get started on it after the clinic closed for the night. I tap my pen against my desk, staring at the piece of lined paper. I prefer writing letters by hand, even though they always end up full of scribbled out words and my writing is a little hard to read.

_Dear Kikyou…_

The other me stirs in displeasure at this. He never liked Kikyou… well, he never really liked anyone, so…. Ignoring the protests I can hear him trying to raise, I lower my pen to the paper once more, but as usual, my mind blanks completely and I can think of nothing to write. Frustrated, I glance over at the photograph of us.

Just like every other time, she continues smiling.

o

I fucked up.

I did. I fucked up again.

Stupid me.

It's horrible, really. You never feel the guilt or fully realize the consequence of what you're doing until the morning after you've done it. But by then it's too late, and you just have to live with that heavy, curdling sickness that settles insides your stomach and decides to mock you. For the rest if the day it will continue banging hard on the back of my head, singing loudly, 'Stupid, stupid, stupid.'

Having a slight hangover does nothing to better the situation.

The empty beer bottles are lying on the floor beside this bed that holds only me. Sesshou-maru didn't come in any time last night. I didn't expect him too. I guess he slept on the couch…

The apartment is quiet. Either he's still sleeping, or he's gone. I look at the clock, finding it to be a bit after 10:00… no, he's definitely gone by now. I guess that's a good thing, though. Confronting him in this condition would only make things that much worse. I hate feeling guilty; it puts me in a horrible mood. The word describes it perfectly; guilty, sliding slick off my tongue, though I can still feel some of it caught in my throat, making me gag. You want to throw it up and get it all out, but you can't, and instead try to ignore it, or avoid it or even shove it on someone else. It will come back to bite you in the ass sooner or later, and then you're forced to accept it, apologize and attempt to move on, though you know it'll stay in the back of your mind and pop up at inopportune times just to spite you.

I realize all that, and yet I can't seem to keep myself out of trouble. Maybe I have some kind of disorder, and purposely get myself into messes without realizing it. On the other hand, maybe I'm just over thinking this whole damn thing.

It doesn't matter. One of us will have to apologize or whatever sometime. I seriously doubt it's going to be Sesshou-maru so I might as well prepare my little speech now, even though he was the one who got all angry about it. It frightened me, how angry he looked. Sure, it seemed like I was hiding things from him, but those things… those things I just don't tell people. Why can't he get that? It's his fault for getting so worked up over just about nothing, anyways.

It's not just the fight that's bugging me, though. It's my 'father' being in this city… that scares me quite a bit. But why should it? He is nothing to me. I should've shot him when I had the chance… should've killed him in my sleep and ran, but I was just a kid then. Killing someone… God, it scares me even now. You would think it would be easy; just pull the trigger and there they go, but it's not. Not for us sane people. For him it's different. And he might be near to me… Ugh, I don't want to think about what would happen if we met.

With a groan, I pull my aching body out of bed, taking a few minutes to stretch before picking up the empty glass bottles and heading for the kitchen. It's Friday… No, Thursday. Thursday, right, I have to go to an afternoon class right after work, which starts at…

Shit. I'm late!

I leave the bottles on the counter, grabbing a box of crackers from the cupboard and run back to the bedroom. That will have to do for breakfast. I pull on some clean looking clothes and shove my things into my bag. However, the acts feel mindless, as I'm much more worried about our inevitable confrontation. Sesshou-maru and I can't avoid each other completely until one of us feels like making an effort to patch things up, which is a disadvantage of living together. Jeez, what will I say when I see him? I could say nothing… I could pretend nothing happened, and… oh, I'll think about it later when I'm actually awake.

As I whip around the corner that leads from the kitchen to the miniscule front hall, I stub my toe on the wall, yelping quietly as I struggle to put my shoes on as fast as possible.

Stupid, stupid me.

o

Her eyes won't leave me alone.

All morning, whatever I think of has led straight back to Kagura and last night, her accusing glare piercing into me, so fierce and hurt, and red.

I push my fingers into the dough, taking out my frustrations on it. Working in a bakery definitely has its benefits. I don't have to converse with people when I am really not in the mood, and kneading dough is, as I have found, an excellent way to leave stress. It also keeps me busy. Still, though, she plagues my mind…

Why does she want to hide it all from me? Was it that bad?

That scar on her back… The rough skin that dips down to form a shallow crater, spindly canals reaching outwards from the centre as if legs of a spider. She has let me touch it a few times, my fingers tracing the ridges gingerly, but always her eyes will dim and became glazed and her usually boisterous demeanor will diminish. I'm near positive this has something to do with it…

I want to know. I want her to stop trying to cover it up, because I can tell it's tearing her apart. She is spreading herself too thin. I fear one day she may fall to pieces completely, and I will be unable to do a thing. Still, maybe it's not safe to force her to face those memories. I did push her a little too far last night, I will admit that… Kagura can just be so damn stubborn, and at the same time it's endearing in an odd way, it gets under my skin and irritates me to no end sometimes.

In a way, I can understand where she's coming from. There are plenty of things that have happened to me that I would rather not disclose, that I would rather forget, but letting things that are obviously still affecting you just sit inside your head and swell over time will only do you harm. Things do not go away simply because you wish them to. Her ex-fiancé is proof enough of that.

The things that have happened to her do seem to be much worse than anything I have ever come close to experiencing, but that gives her no excuse to…

And I had no excuse to get almost violent with her.

This is getting me nowhere fast.

If only I could somehow tell her all this… turn all my scattered thoughts into words and sentences that are somewhat logical. I've never been one for talking, though. Writing is different. I can go word by word, I can erase what I don't like, and no one ever has to see (save the editors, mind you) until I'm completely finished and there are no mistakes. Talking is different, and much more difficult. There's no turning back time to take away the words you didn't mean to say or to rephrase your jumbled, half-spoken sentences. The moment passes and you can't change it.

I sigh, knocking a thin strand of hair that's fallen from the bandana I wear to keep hair out of my face out of my line of vision.

Kagura is… a difficult person to understand. I guess I should consider myself lucky to be let in as far as I have. I don't want to watch her struggle and do nothing, but I don't want to destroy her in the process of trying to help…

As irksome as it is, I really don't know.

o

Thursday's class is without a doubt my favorite. Media Studies. I first signed up for it because I thought it would be an easy credit. It's actually more a psychology course than anything, and more fun than class should be. For the most part, we have discussions about the effects advertisements and celebrities and the like have on us, to extreme levels.

In any case, I was pissed when I came here from work (Mrs. H. was annoyed at me, understandably, and the dumb-ass computer system decided to crash on us. Again.), but now I think I'm in a pretty good mood. I mean, the guilty pangs seem to be lessening, and I don't have any urges to kill anything or bash my head against a wall, so that's got to be a good sign, right?

"Hey, Kagura."

I find that guy from the library the other day…Bankotsu, that's his name, standing beside me, looking somewhat exhausted.

"Hey yourself," I say. We begin out into the hall, herded along by the thick stream of students coming out of various classrooms, the roar of chatter and footsteps suddenly loud in my ear.

"I wanted to apologize for Jakotsu being… cold to you yesterday," he starts. "It's nothing persona, he just doesn't like chicks."

I raise an eyebrow. "Doesn't like chicks?"

"Jakotsu's kinda weird that way…" he answers, shrugging.

"I noticed."

He grins (it almost looks like a smirk) at this, though it quickly disappears into a yawn that he hides behind his hand.

"You seem tired," I comment redundantly for lack of anything else to say.

The short man nods, readjusting his grip on the backpack slung over his shoulder. "Yeah, I was out late last night. Say, I was just about to go grab a coffee. Wanna come?"

I'm pretty sure he's not hitting on me after seeing the way he let that oddball Jakotsu ride on his back out of the library, so I agree. It will give me a bit more time before getting home anyways. I don't have any other classes today, thank goodness for that, so I would probably just go straight home otherwise. Going home would mean confronting Sesshou-maru, and I haven't yet put my mind to thinking up a good way to go about talking to him. Knowing me I'll just end up blurting out 'I'm sorry for being such a bitch to you last night, but you better be sorry too' or something equally as stupid. I think my mind has blown it all out of proportion anyways. I'm beginning to watch for my 'father' in the crowds too, just in case.

Bankotsu and I find a seat in a cozy little on campus place called 'Café Chitchat'. The word 'cozy' has been overused to describe things these days, but that's really what it is; warm and small, but friendly. A young man with messy brown hair about as long as mine serves us our drinks, though he seems to be more caught up in talking to the band setting up for their performance tonight than anything. I think I've heard something about them from someone in another class. Maybe I'll drag Sesshou-maru out to a show sometime… but there I go, getting ahead of myself.

"I drink way too much coffee," I admit to Bankotsu, sipping the steaming beverage from a mug with an abstract looking cat painted on it. "I think everyone does. It's like we've become obsessed."

"It's the caffeine," he says.

I nod. "So, where's Jakotsu now?"

"Working," Bankotsu answers. "He had to take the shift today because he took Tuesday night off. Usually he waits outside and drags me off someplace."

"You two are…"

He chuckles, clearly amused. "Together. Yeah."

"Well, I wasn't sure how to ask… Anyways, my boyfriend does the same thing, picking me up from class." I say. "Only he does it because he kinda overprotective… speaking of him…" I quiet for a moment, narrowing my eyes at the checker-patterned tablecloth.

"Are you going to continue that thought or should I pretend you didn't say anything?" Bankotsu asks after I fail to say any more.

I begin running my finger around the rim of my mug (the look the green and purple cat on it is giving me is really starting to creep me out), still not meeting his eye. "I suggest forgetting."

With my peripheral vision, I can see him shift, as if a little uncomfortable. "Look, if you came here to cheat on him with me… I'm out. Sorry."

I laugh, though it sounds bitter as it comes out. "No, no, that wasn't it at all."

The thought has crossed my mind before, when I begin to get fed up with Sesshou-maru and it all starts to seem like a dream I never quite grasped and just thought I was living. Maybe, I would think, I'll sneak out for the evening, go to a club and get completely wasted just for fun. As much as I enjoyed that lifestyle and I miss it more than occasionally, I know I'm drawn to the harmful side of it. Besides… I don't want to cheat on Sesshou-maru… I'm happy with him. I don't want to ruin that.

"As much as I was flattered by the thought, I'm glad," Bankotsu continues. "So… how long have you going to the college for."

"Just started this year," I answer. I hope he doesn't ask my age. It always feels awkward when I tell people I'm older than all the other first-years, even if it's not by much.

He nods. "Same. Though I doubt I'll finish. School's not my sorta thing."

"What do you want to do then?"

He gives another one of those smile-smirks. "Oh, there are plenty of high paying jobs one can do without going to some little rich-ass school to get a degree. Trust me."

Trust is something I don't take lightly, but I choose not to say this, instead directing my attention to the stage, on which the woman I think owns this place steps up on stage. I didn't think the show would start this early but it seems that's just what's happening, as she introduces the band (I didn't quite get the name, as it was something odd and she spoke quickly, her words lilted by a French accent). Within seconds, the once 'cozy' café is filled with a lazy drumbeat accompanied by electric guitar and stand up bass played by a rather short girl who looks as if she's going to be crushed by her instrument.

I turn the cup so the cat is facing away from me and not looking at me with that stupid 'I know something you don't know' grin that reminds me too much of Bankotsu.

o

My pencil scratches against the paper, though the lead grey marks I make are quickly erased a second later, as I can easily see how wrong my answer is. I glare at the equation. Math never was my forte, but these days it feels like I'm slipping…

"Miroku-san," I start, looking at the teen across the library table from me.

He looks up from his novel. "Yes, Kagome?"

I sigh, tapping my beat-up textbook with the eraser end of my pencil. "I hate math."

"I see…" He smiles knowingly. "Need help then, do you?"

I glare at him for a few seconds before giving in and nodding. Chuckling lightly at my misfortune, Miroku pulls out his chair and heads over to me. He often comes to the library to get his homework done, which is the same thing I like to do. Souta tends to pester me when I try to do mine at home, and I can't ask Grandpa for help without getting an earful about something or other, so it's easiest just to do it here. That and Buyo always tries to eat my pencil whenever I'm writing.

"What do you need help on?"

"Dividing fractions. It's so dumb! I keep doing it wrong but I don't know what I'm doing wrong so I can't fix it, and-"

"Calm down, calm down. Here, I'll take a look…"

He puts a hand on my shoulder and peers down at my attempts at equations, eyes quickly scanning my work. He arm is near to my face, and I can smell a slight bit of incense on him. There's a hole in the sleeve of his washed-out blue t-shirt just about big enough for me to fit my pinky finger through. He's not too wealthy, I know that, but at least he's not as bad off as Inuyasha. The two know each other, though they don't seem to get along extremely well. Probably because Inuyasha is so temperamental and moody all the time and Miroku is rather skilled at reading people. He can tell what to say and do to get under people's skin, or to somehow get them to slip up and reveal more information than they wanted to. Hey, maybe he knows…

"Miroku-san?" I ask, my fingers beginning to jitter and weave in and out of themselves in nervous habit, an idiosyncrasy of mine I can't seem to quit. "Do you know who 'she' is?"

His gaze flickers from my half-finished work sheet to me, an eyebrow raised in question.

"I'm afraid I don't follow. Who is 'she'?"

I rest my fingers on the edge of the table in an attempt to make them stop their movements. "'She'… the person Inuyasha always refers to. He's never actually said her name, just sometimes he'll begin mumbling when we get in a fight or when I bring him something. It's been bothering me for a while."

Miroku sits in the chair beside me, his usually amused expression turning pensive. "Have you asked him about it?"

I snort. "That jerk won't tell me. He just snaps 'None of your business!' or ignores me. That's why I'm asking you."

"I know what you mean," he chuckles, leaning back a little in his chair. He eyes me for a few seconds, my fingers tapping restlessly against the tabletop and a feeling a self-consciousness coming over me. I may consider Miroku my friend, like a brother in a way, but that doesn't change the fact that he's a pervert, and sometime I worry.

"Kagome, do you like Inuyasha?"

I can feel the heat rushing into my cheeks. "What? Miroku-san! What are you talking about?"

"You like Inuyasha," Miroku says cheerily, delighted at what he seems to think he has uncovered. His smug laughter does nothing to soften the accusation.

I shake my head viciously. "No, no, no! I don't!" Remembering our location, I lower my voice, glowering at him. "Besides, you never answered my question."

"True enough," he answers, resting on arm on the back of his chair. The thin silver chain he wears around his wrist clinks softly against the metal of the chair's frame as he becomes contemplative once again.

"I do believe I might've heard something about an ex-girlfriend of his," he tells me after a while. "She may have been who Inuyasha was talking about."

"An ex-girlfriend?"

"You're jealous," he comments, giving me a wink.

"I am not jealous!" I protest, setting my lips in a pout.

Miroku laughs. "Unfortunately, that's all I really know of the tale. I've heard things, yes, but…"

"But?"

"Well, I don't know if they're true at all, and some of them I don't want your young ears to hear," Miroku teases. He picks up my discarded pencil and slides my worksheet over to him, making a note on the side of the page.

"I have to go home now," he tells me as he writes, "since it's my night to cook. But here, I've figured out what you're doing wrong. You invert both the fractions; you only need to invert one, and that's why all your answers are wrong. Everything else is fine." He hands the paper to me, leaning across the table to grab his things. He quickly dog-ears a page in his novel and shoves it into his bag, then pulls on his jacket. "I'll see you later then?"

"Kay."

He gives me a slight wave as he hurries away. However, he pauses after several steps, turning back with a mischievous light in his eyes.

"Oh, Kagome?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you sure you don't like Inuya-"

"Yes, now would you stop with that?"

"Is that your final answer?" he jokes. "Oh come on, Kagome, I was just messing with you."

"Goodbye, Miroku-san."

I sigh and get back to erasing the half hour's worth of work I had done incorrectly, the paper wearing thin and threatening to tear where it's been attacked by the pink rubber more than once.

Stupid Miroku… Of course I don't like Inuyasha. I mean, we're just friends. It's not like he'd ever want to be anything more, so there's no point in even considering such a thing. I doubt Mama would let me 'date' a boy anyways. Sure, Inuyasha can be nice sometimes, and after a while he doesn't seem like such a jerk because you know he doesn't really mean half the things he says, and sometimes when he actually says thank you or pays some attention to me it feels really good, but that does mean I like him. Not at all.

o

I don't know how long I've been standing outside the door to our apartment. At least five minutes, probably more. Bankotsu and I stayed for the band's performance (their name, I found out afterwards, is The Banana Sinners), but parted ways after that. I then came directly here, where I have been standing, staring at the doorknob, for a considerably pathetic amount of time. It would be so easy just to reach out, twist the doorknob and open the fricking door – just like magic! – but no, my hand is staying at my side, refusing to respond to the reasoning and urges of the reckless side of me. I sound schizophrenic or something, don't I?

It's just a door.

It's our door. The door to the apartment I live in with Sesshou-maru.

He's on the other side of that door, and part of me does not want to face him just yet.

This is stupid. Why am I getting so damn worked up over this?

"Kagura."

I startle and look to the direction of the voice. Sesshou-maru stands beside me with an impassive expression, plastic grocery bags hanging from his hands, the objects within pressing into the material as if trying to break out. I'm silent for a second _(stupid stupid stupid)_ before my reckless side takes me over and I snap out of my trance.

"Hey," I say, trying to be somewhat casual. "I thought you'd be home already."

"I went to the store," he answers, fishing the key from his pocket. "We were running low on a few things."

I step out of his way so he can unlock the door, remembering now that I had forgotten my key today in my rush this morning and must have left the apartment unlocked all day until he got home. Oh well, at least I have an excuse for standing in front of the door like a moron now.

He puts the bags on the kitchen table and begins putting the groceries away with his coat and shoes still on. I kick off my sneakers and quickly head over to help him. I detest this feeling of uncertainty brewing inside of me. My recklessness decides to take advantage of this. I can almost feel her laughing.

"Well," I hear myself saying as I pull a carton of milk from the bag and shove it into an empty space on one of the shelves in our fridge, "are we going to talk about it?"

His muscles stiffen, and he pauses for a second before shutting the cupboard. "If you want to."

I slide out a chair from under the table and slide into the seat, casting my eyes at him as he turns around and leans back against the counter. There comes a pregnant muteness that mocks me just as harshly as the annoying guilt in the back of my head that has been dancing on my brain all day and yet still has energy for more. This is what you would call an awkward silence.

"Last night," I start, looking a little bit past him to the kitchen wall, "was… I think… oh, Hell." I take a breath, trying to figure out the proper words. I usually just go with whatever comes to the top of my head, but there's so much bubbling up right now, all pushing and shoving to get out at once that I can barely see straight. Another breath and I set off again. "Alright. I… I'm sorry if… I know it came off as I was shutting myself off," I'm finally able to blurt out, "but I didn't really mean it like that. I was just really upset about the bastard who is my 'father' being somewhat near me, after the whole mess with Kagewaki and all the other shit that happened… shit I really, _really_ don't want to remember. So I'm sorry that pissed you off and that this sort-of-apology is so crappy. But you…"

He shifts, golden eyes fixated loosely on a spot to his right. For a while, there is another bit of an anxious, impatient silence in which I try to make my heart rate return to a speed considered somewhat normal. There, I've done my part, now it's up to him to do his. Unless, of course, he doesn't feel he needs to say anything. No, he will. He may be a pompous bastard some of the time, but he's not that coldhearted or egotistical. I don't think.

The silence continues to buzz loud in my ears, pounding white noise. Good thing I already put the milk away. It might have spoiled.

"I too," he begins (finally), in soft even tones, "should apologize for my behavior… I lost control and my temper, unreasonably. And I…"

I exhale slowly, hoping the awkwardness will cease to linger around us like humidity, thick in the air. Please, please, please let things be normal and good again. It's odd for life to be this fucked up unless we did something to deserve it, which I don't think we did… Maybe it just doesn't like us, who knows?

Sesshou-maru continues, his voice a deep lull. "I'm sorry… I almost hurt you."

The words are startlingly full, almost trembling. He rocks forward so his weight is no longer held by the counter but now by his feet.

"It's fine," I say, eager for this to end.

He says something in a slurred murmur as he takes a few steps forwards, but I can't quite make it out.

"Like I said, it's fine," I tell him, regardless. "It was just a little squabble, well, more than that I suppose, but"- I'm babbling. This isn't good. -"it's nothing people don't do all the time. If we didn't fight, I'd be worried, you know? In any case, I think will be fine now… I'll just…"

I stop as I feel his arms wrap around me from behind, my mouth left partially open where sound has stopped. The back of the chair separates most of our bodies, but I can feel his cheek rest atop my head, one arm draped across my shoulder, the other resting beneath my breasts. I close my mouth and let him hold me for a while, leaning my head back against his shoulder. Problem solved?

"Are you going to continue keeping all those things buried inside of you?" Sesshou-maru asks eventually.

I want to. I don't want them to contaminate what I have now… It would be accurate to say I'm ashamed of a lot of the things I did, of the things I was.

"You don't want to know," I tell him.

He doesn't seem to believe me, giving a silence in response.

"Why do you to hear about it so bad anyways?" I ask.

"I want to know what's hurting you, Kagura."

"It's not…"

It is.

Sometimes I hate him. I hate him because he's right about me, and it's frightening to have someone know you that well.

"Okay, fine," I say reluctantly, knowing he's right and detesting it. "I'll… some other time, I'll tell you."

"When you're ready," he says simply. I feel one of his hands reach up to brush against my cheek, tipping my head towards him. I tilt my head back and his lips meet mine.

The wounds I received long ago feel raw far too often, and though I try to ignore it, they just aren't healing properly. In my frustration, I end up scraping them all open again and forming new ones. A slow, unintentional suicide.

I just pray to whatever sort of Gods there may be he doesn't leave me when I tell him. Sometimes I really don't like myself for my past. Every little weakness and flaw just adds to the stains I can't wash off of me. Every little thing is blown out of proportion and there I am, one huge stupid mistake that can't do anything right. That's how it seems to me, anyways. I learned not to give a flying fuck about such things, but my self-criticalness has become innate, no matter how hard I try to smother it.

I slip my tongue through Sesshou-maru's lips, lifting my hands to wrap my arms around his neck, knitting my fingers into his hair.

_Don't you dare let go._

End chapter 14


	15. cherry on top

_life in moderation_

chapter 15: cherry on top

Once again, unbeta'd, as I wanted to get this up ASAP, so I apologize for any mistakes and whatnot.

_I'm so sorry_ this was so late! Between procrastination, my social life and school (and my spastic keyboard breaking down on me), things have been busy. Thank you to all those who continue to read. And now review responses aren't allowed again, so...

**I disclaim, etc.**

o

As I enter the hospital, I'm bombarded with the smell of disinfectant, nearly overpowering as it seeps in through my mouth and nostrils. I've been in plenty of hospitals over in my lifetime, but the smell gets to me nonetheless. Bitter in a bland way.

The women at the front desk glances up as I walk in, smiling with her brightly painted lips before going back to the crossword open on her desk. Hair that has obviously been dyed far from its original colour is falling out of the bun she has it tied back in, but she pushes it back into place, though it will only fall out again a few moments later.

"Er, excuse me?"

She looks up again. "Hello there, hun… do you have an appointment or something?" Judging from her voice, it's the same woman I talked to on the phone. Husky and middle-aged, her throat is tanned and freckled like quite a few women her age are.

"Sort of," I tell her. "I was contacted about a week ago, about a girl I was supposed to see… I'm a doctor, and-"

"Oh, _you_." She nods, turning to her computer and tapping at the keyboard a few times. "What was your name again?"

"Eisei Suikotsu."

"Right then…" With one flourished tap, she calls up a file on the screen. "You're a bit early, but that's a nice change compared to most people around here. She's in Room 306 on the third floor. You're just supposed to wait outside until a nurse lets you in, alright?"

"Yes. Thank you," I murmur as I step away, looking around a little to figure out where I am (it's been a little while since I was last here) and head off to the right, side-stepping a woman in a wheelchair as I do.

"Buh-bye, hun!" the receptionist calls, giving me a wave. "Have a nice day!"

o

I fucking _love_ today.

As of this morning, I consider myself 22 years old. I also consider myself rather lucky. I'm sure some of the people I used to know didn't survive to 20…

Lucky, _lucky_ me.

On a lighter note, I'm also fortunate to have a boyfriend who can bake a decent cake. That's right. Sesshou-maru baked me a cake. A chocolate cake. With cherries and red icing flowers and everything! The only bad thing about it was he refused to let me eat it until after breakfast, which he also made himself while I slept in _late_, thank you very much. I usually would be at work, but Mrs. Higurashi decided to let me have to day off. I still had two classes, but I was in such a good mood they breezed by. One of those days where the clocks decide to skip into double-time and the hours slide away.

I felt like such an idiot, though; half the time I had this huge smile on my face that I could hardly control. It just felt like there was something huge and amazing inside me that was trying to bust out of my mouth, intensely and gloriously. Like I was a superhero or something, and I couldn't be kept down by _anything_ or _anyone_.

Stupid, right?

I lean forward, peering into the mirror as I brush on another layer of mascara, careful as not to jab myself in the eye. A red long-sleeved shirt clings to my chest, full of static, and around my hips is a black skirt I wasn't aware I owned until today, as I have no recollection of buying it – I probably 'borrowed' it from someone and forgot to return it. I'm not fond of dressing up, but hey, it's a special occasion.

I blink twice, hoping the little dark chunks on my lashes don't decide to stick to and smudge darkly against the skin around my eyes. It must really be my lucky day because they obey, and with another few glances in the mirror at myself, the mascara (that's probably past its expiry date, come to think of it) goes back in my purse and I'm out the door. I step into the hall, savouring my last few steps before I have to put on my goddamn heeled shoes.

"Ready to go?"

Sesshou-maru stands in the doorway to the bedroom, pulling at the cuffs of his shirt. At least he had to go through the torture of getting dressed up too. We're going to a restaurant; not something hideously expensive and high class that makes you feel really intimidated and out of place when you just pass by it on the street, just a small place with decent food. I wasn't too fond of the idea a first, but he insisted, and I was blushing when I rolled my eyes at him.

"Mmhm." I answer casually.

"Sure you haven't forgotten anything?"

"Yeah, yeah," I say, sticking out my tongue briefly. "You're not my mother."

In amused annoyance, he starts down the short hallway beside me, and says almost mockingly, "Make sure you behave."

"It's my birthday," I retort. "Everyone goes out, gets drunk, and fucks on their birthdays."

"Really now."

I'm pretty sure it's a smile he hides behind his coat as he opens the closet door and pulls it out. I lean around him, displeasure growing as my coat is nowhere to be found, which is odd, because I would almost swear I put it in here… where I last saw it escapes me near completely, but I give the closet one last look through before turning to Sesshou-maru and asking him.

He pauses in response, looking a little thoughtful before shrugging his shoulders. "Check the bedroom."

Thankfully, he chooses not to say anything about how I should have listened to him when he reminded me not to forget anything, and I head (still blissfully sock footed) to the bedroom. Of course, as if just to prove to me I'm not completely in control of the world today, my coat is thrown on the back of the chair sitting by the window.

It figures that he was right…

I pull it on, taking yet another look in the mirror before leaving. I can't stay too long in front of them still, else things start to get all screwed up in my head…

As usual, a little bit of bitterness burns inside me whenever that sort of thought comes up, but I ignore it. Instead, I focus my attentions on the voices coming from the door. Either we have guests or Sesshou-maru's suddenly begun talking to himself in odd voices. Who knows, it would go along fine with the other strange things that have been happening lately. Well, not strange, I guess. I've just been getting really odd feelings lately; the one you get when something is a little off, or when someone's watching you, or talking about you behind your back. Maybe it's paranoia, maybe not…

As I turn the corner, I'm a little surprised to see Sesshou-maru, one hand still resting on the open door, chatting coldly with Bankotsu and a pink-scarved Jakotsu (whose expression drops a little of its vibrancy as he catches sight of me, no less).

Wait…what the Hell are they doing here?

"Hey…" I say, trying not to seem rude. It's always hard in this sort of situation to be polite when you're wondering 'Why are you here and how did you know where I live?'. Over the past week I've been talking to Bankotsu quite a bit, and a little to Jakotsu, but I wouldn't use the word 'friend' too strongly just yet. Some people come off pretty desperate and/or lonely when they smack the label on anyone who will take a minute or two out of their daily schedule to engage in somewhat mundane conversation with them.

I receive a polite nod from Jakotsu, and Bankotsu smiles. "Hey, don't you look nice tonight, Kagura?"

Jakotsu elbows him not so subtly in the ribs. I'm not sure if I should laugh.

"Thank you?"

"Anyways, we just stopped by to say 'Happy Birthday' and all that, since we were walking by anyways," Bankotsu continues. "I saw Mieko at the library, and she told me, if you were wondering."

"I was," I say, relaxing a little. "Well… thanks."

Another nod from Jakotsu.

There's no time for an awkward silence, as Bankotsu quickly makes a comment about having to leave and in a few seconds our doorway is empty once again.

"You have odd friends," Sesshou-maru comments as he reaches for our shoes (I don't bother to correct him on his wording, it doesn't much matter). "Where did you meet those two?"

"Bankotsu through classes. Jakotsu through him."

He shakes his head. "Never before have I met someone so interested in what _shampoo_ and _conditioners_ I use."

Something halfway between a snort and a laugh comes out of my mouth, and in that rush of bliss I take Sesshou-maru by the hand, pulling him out the door. My damned shoes throw me off-balance though, and I feel myself falling (sweet, blissful, harrowing freefall for all of one and a half seconds!) back into him, more laughter bubbling up from inside of me.

"Heh! I'm sorry…" I laugh, tilting my head back to look at him. The thickly fly-filled fluorescent lights border his face as he looks at me, upside down.

"Er, thanks…"

"It's fine," he says, shifting as to better support my weight.

I wonder if he really knows just how much he's done for me…

He's been a little busy over the past week, what with the book needing to be ready in a week or two for Christmas sales and all that jazz, but each night he's managed to be home at least an hour before I get to bed, just to be there… it makes a difference, somehow. Slowly, between kisses, touches, silences and sound, I've begun to unravel. Little bits and pieces of me are coming to the surface. Letting him see. Telling him about the things my father did to me. The things other people did to me. Things I did to me…

And never once did he turn away.

Never once did he seem to hesitate.

Never once did he criticize, or give me one of those _looks_ people give you when they find out something that you did or said that makes you feel like complete shit. Worthless. And he's still here, amazingly enough. I catch myself wondering why sometimes and force myself to stop.

I'm not used to things meaning this much to me. Actually, I think this is the most anything has ever meant… Sometimes it feels like my heart is going to burst from the sheer force of it.

He raises an eyebrow was I slide my hands up through his hair and hold the back of his neck, forgetting to give a flying fuck about where we are as I dart upwards to kiss him.

"I love you. You know that, right?" I tell him.

He nods, then guides me back to my feet and turns my around. Hands on my shoulders, eyes looking straight into mine and nowhere else, he pulls me a little closer.

"I love you…"

Like I said, right? The best fucking birthday ever.

o

I can understand why so many people hate hospitals. Such horrible things happen in hospitals, and unfortunately, those tend to be remembered over the good things, however small they are. It seems enough to make one go mad, some days, after having so much birth, death and sickness happen around you constantly.

My 'other half', if you will, quite likes it here. All the death, all the blood… I ignore him, continually reminding myself hospitals are places meant to heal and prevent death. He doesn't much care.

After waiting outside the door to the patient's room for a while (long enough to cause me to start counting floor tiles), a nurse emerges.

"Eisei Suikotsu, I presume." At my nod, the older man motions to the door.

"Go right in. The doctor that's been taking care of her will be in there as well to help."

"Thank you…"

Tight-lipped in business like, he proceeds to fill me in on what they've managed to find out so far. "We've managed to identify her as Taijiya Sango; the missing girl from the murdered family. Right now we've chosen to keep this a secret, and only the cops know, just to be on the safe side. She's still pretty unstable, and doesn't talk a lot, so don't be too demanding of her, alright?"

I nod, and after answering a few more questions, the nurse nods me into the room, a small, square and white box completely alike to every other room in the building. There are no cards or flowers on the windowsill, and heavy grey clouds are visible through the slits in the blinds.

On the bed (white sheets, white mattress, white shapeless pillow), she lies, head lolled back on the pillow with her long, dark hair tied back in a tight ponytail at the nape of her neck. She – Sango – looks quite a bit different from when I last saw her, face distorted with pain and confusion, streaked with tears and blood. Now her skin is pale, no longer flushed pink with cold, and she wears an immaculate hospital gown that hangs awkwardly around her body. Dazed and ostensibly unaware, she stares off, chest rising and falling offbeat to the constant, steady beeping of the heart monitor. She's probably on so many painkillers its hard for her too feel much at all. The stitches that run up her cheek look crude and harsh against her soft features, and I can see another bandage on her arm peeking out from under the sheet.

The poor girl…

There are two chairs sitting by the bed, one already occupied by the doctor; a silvery-haired man who looks to be about in his fifties, eyes appearing small and squinted behind his glasses. I sit myself down next to him, unsure of what to do for a moment before he breaks the rhythm of quiet background sounds.

"Sango…" he says softly (she does not stir). "How are you feeling?"

She takes a moment to respond, and when she does so it's in a fine, wispy voice, strained and slightly rough from remaining unused for quite a long time. "Okay…"

"We're going to ask you some questions, Sango," the doctor says in his calm, paced voice. "You can answer at your own pace; there's no rush. Just do the best you can."

As his voice fades off, he looks to me. I realize immediately that it's my turn to speak, though I have no words. Skin so drastically pale, she almost seems like a ghost, just a figment of a person, and if I reached out to touch her, my hand would go right through.

Where to start, where to start…

She takes a long, shuddering breath.

"Sango… do you remember the day I found you in the snow?" I try, hoping I'm not being too straight-forward. The doctor allows me, so I go on, prompting, "It was a Sunday…"

Her chin twitches in nod. "Yes… I saw you then…"

It's becoming hard to look at her; I feel that somehow I'm violating her, and admittedly, I'm reminded of Kikyou, so I try to keep my eyes on the window.

"What do you remember about that day?"

The doctor adds, "Tell us whatever you want to… whatever comes to mind."

"Kohaku was sick," she says instantly, voice growing in volume, though the words still come gradually. "Mom was up all night, trying to keep his fever down… She wanted to stay home from work and take care of him, but I told her I could take care of him, and she should rest. Dad agreed, but she really didn't want to…"

Her voice wavers and settles back into its whispering quiet. Her eyes widen, the whites threaded with vermillion.

"Yes?" I ask.

She murmurs something.

"If you could, please, a little louder?"

"_It was my fault_," she says. "They were late… they were late because I made such a mess of the kitchen when I tried to make pancakes. They were trying to work things out and take care of Kohaku and everything else all at once, so I tried to make breakfast. I was worried though, so I accidentally burnt the pancakes, and burnt myself, and that made them _late_. And if they weren't late… it wouldn't have happened!" She's growing slightly hysterical now, the edge on her voice causing my grip on the arm of my chair to tighten. The tempo of the heart monitor begins to speed up, growing rapid.

"Are you alright, Sango?"

She ignores the question, the murmuring seeming to be directed at herself. "Dad was about to leave… He was going to leave but…"

My muscles grow stiff with tension and worry as her face overflows with a mix of so many emotions all at once that it's impossible to pick one out, each blending with every other. The heart monitor races still. I find myself leaning forward as to better hear her mutterings; the rush of thoughts that are no doubt roaring inside her head trying to take the form of words.

Her voice slurs into breathlessness. "Mom was…in the kitchen with Kohaku and me… Dad was going to leave, but… but…"

The terror rises in her eyes.

"Sango," I find myself saying, "take your time… we're here, it's okay. We're going to help you. Just try and remem-"

"We heard Dad open the door, and someone came in. They were talking… Mom was too busy to… then it was loud, like gunshots, and," she shudders, choking. "_Blood_."

All of us wince.

"All over the floor… he… footsteps and…he…" Her breathing is rapid and shallow once again, lips trembling as tears begin to spill onto her face and her fingers grip the sides of the mattress. "Mom… Mom!… she told Kohaku and me to go, but Kohaku tripped and I tried to help him up… then… _Mom!_"

"Are you-"

"Sango, please-"

A wail starts in her throat, raising in volume and crackling like radio static as it turns into a heavy sob.

"He killed Dad!… he killed Mom, and Kohaku!… I shouldn't be alive! Why am I alive? Why am I- Oh, God! _Oh God!_"

Her hands clench the sheets so tightly her tendons rise out of her wrists and her knuckles rise up, trembling. For a moment, I think she's going to vomit as she rolls over on her right side and pounds at the mattress, all of body her shuddering with her sickened cries. The doctor, somehow able to keep his calm during all this, rises from his seat and run-walks to the door, calling in the nurse. I feel somewhat useless, glued to the seat of my chair and still trying to decipher her distorted recollection as the nurse holds her body down and the doctor sticks a needle in her arm, slowly injecting.

"He shot… Mom… why did he… she said, the name… Naraku… _Why?_"

_Naraku._

That was the name Kikyou…

The drug seems to work fairly quickly, and it seems only seconds that the previously reigning pandemonium has disintegrated into this restless quiet. After checking Sango, who continues to whimper sharply, the doctor turns to me.

"I thank you for coming in today to help me," the doctor says in a hushed voice. "I think seeing you loosened something inside of her from that day; I have tried to pry something from her before but she hasn't responded. I suppose we'll have you come in again… You'll receive a call; except it sometime soon."

I nod as he shakes my hand. "Ah, you're welcome…"

The moment still hasn't quite caught up to me as I find myself pushing open the heavy entrance doors and out into the darkened parking lot, ankle-deep in snow.

My other-half is laughing, revelling in memory.

o

It's a kind of silly, but I've been obsessing over it. Only a little, though. I just get the thought out of my head, though. Somehow, no matter what I'm doing, it will always find a way to pop back into my brain. Always him, always stupid him. I have begun to make up stories about it to try and satisfy it and make it go away, but no such luck.

Miroku has been pretty busy lately, and I doubt he would ask for me anyways (not without mercilessly teasing me about _liking_ Inuyasha – which I _don't_!), so the only way to actually know would be to ask Inuyasha himself. Unfortunately, right now he's complaining to me about some old woman that was bothering him today when he was spare-changing downtown.

We sit on one of our usual benches in the park, not too close, the greasy wrappers from our dinner sitting between us. All the leaves have fallen from the trees by this time, leaving the limbs a charcoal brown, naked save a lightly frosting of the snow that fell earlier this morning with a wind though would leave you looking slap-faced, but ended before noon. Eyes anywhere but me, he continues on and on…

"…and then the old bitch tried to hit me with her bag! Fuck, it felt like there were bricks in there or something! I didn't even deserve it, that old hag!" Arms crossed over his chest, his lips are set in annoyed pout

"Inuyasha?"

It's the first time I've spoken in a while. He looks up, as if he has just noticed that yes, I _am_ capable of talking as well.

"Er, yeah, Kagome?"

Well, there's no going back now, is there?

"Um…" My hands squeeze the empty cup of hot chocolate held between them, the insides still dotted with droplets. "Remember… remember, how you keep mentioning someone, and-"

He snorts. "You mean the old hag who hit me?"

"No, no…." I shake my head. "That person. You never call her by name, just 'her', and she comes up quite a bit, so… I was just wondering…"

His eyes narrow into thin slits, glowing brilliant yellow anger. "None of your damn business." The curse word is accented, as he knows it bothers me.

"That's what you always say!" I protest, turning a little on the bench as to look at him straighter. "I don't get why you won't tell me! You're so stubborn!"

The same old argument.

"_You're_ the one who's stubborn!" he accuses, like a child who can think of nothing better to say. His nose wrinkles, almost into a snarl, as if having this squabble offends him. "It's _nothing_! Why are you so obsessed about knowing anyways?"

"I just am!" is all I can come up with. "My God, I was just asking! You don't have to be so rude about it!"

He stands up abruptly, causing me to lean back a little from the start. I open my mouth to defend myself, but he beats me to it. Just like every time before, my attempts have failed miserably.

"Look, I don't want to talk about it, so why don't you just shut up and go home! It's not like she's coming back, so what do you have to worry about?" He snaps, always eager to get in the last word before stalking off, hands shoved into the depths of his pockets.

o

_Dear Kikyou,_

_I guess I should've written sooner, and I'm sorry I didn't. Thank you for your letter, though, Ruri and Hari really appreciated, as did I. It was greatly relieving to know that you're doing well. I won't lie to you because you wouldn't believe me anyways; I was really worried. We all miss you (Ruri and Hari are monitoring me as I write this to make sure I don't ramble off, and so I remember to include them a fair amount)._

**_Damn right we are! It's taken you long enough to actually write this thing, Suikotsu, Hari and I already sent her quite a few! It's about time you did!_**

_Alright, now that I've wrestled the pen back from Ruri…_

_Everything at the clinic is going fine. We haven't had any major problems for a while, aside from the pregnant girl who's friends brought her in a few months ago after her water broke (I called an ambulance and she got to the hospital in plenty of time, thankfully) and a teenager on the verge of suicide that came in. I wished you had been there. You always were great at talking to them and calming them down._

_Your letter is boring, Suikotsu!_

**_I agree! Plenty of odd stuff has happened! Like the rat man!_**

_I apologize, they… what rat man?_

**_The guy that stands along the street where we go to get coffee and tries to sell people rats that he gets from the allies._**

_He threw one at Tsubaki yesterday! I swear, Kikyou, it was one of the funniest things I've ever seen!_

_Well… I don't think there's much I can add to that._

_I just hope things are going fine with you still, and I'm proud of you for handling it all so well. When you come back, you still have a job here, if you want it. We'd love to have you back._

_Sincerely,_

_Suikotsu_

_**Ruri**_

_Hari_

* * *

Feeling a smile push its way recklessly over my lips, I set the letter down on the table beside the torn-up envelope. 

After all that's happened, and after so long, it's hard to believe they still remember me enough to write. Time seems to move so rapidly. I know the paint-blanched halls of this labyrinth like I built them myself, the routine becoming unsettling familiar. Faces come and go (and come again) so swiftly that it's hard to keep track.

It's nearly December now, I think; even when I sleep with all the blankets piled on me, I can feel the chill. I never dealt well with cold.

I wonder what Inuyasha's going to do this year…

With chilled fingers, I pick up the near-dead pen setting on the desk and bring it to my paper, hesitating one quick moment before letting the ink sink in.

o

With cake-stained lips and breath that smells just a little more than subtly of wine, Kagura shivers and rests her head on my shoulder. The make-up is smudged, sticky on her half-closed eyelids as she drifts softly in and out of sleep.

So close she could be a part of me…

End Chapter 15

Interesting note: There actually is a 'Rat Man' in Toronto, though I haven't myself seen him. Apparently, he has ferrets now.


	16. Confrontation

_life in moderation_

chapter 16: Confrontation

I hope this turned out alright. It's a little short, but this needed its own chapter. Thanks so much to all those who continue to read and review, it means so much. Un-beta'd.

**I disclaim**

* * *

I have his book sitting in my bag. Sesshou-maru's book, that is. The one about me. He got a bunch of free copies from the publishing company and decided to give one to me, while the rest continue collecting dust in the closet. 

I admit, I feel a little bad for not reading it yet, but I do mean to eventually. I'm not _that_ much of a bitch, even though Christmas and New Year's have already blown by and the spirit along with them. Ugh, it makes me feel old how quickly time seems to be going… I mean, it's as if one day it I was lounging around with the fear of exams behind me and hardly anything to do besides work, and now I'm back in class again! I almost miss those damn carollers from the church that kept coming around… almost.

But back to the book.

Sesshou-maru's been out on a bunch of book-autographing and interview type things. I know he hates them, and it's amusing every time he's called and invited to go on another one because he gets this pissed off look as if he's going to smash the phone. Yeah, he's _definitely_ not what you would call a 'people person'.

Anyways, he's been away the past few days for publicity and what have you in the next city over, but he should be getting back tonight. I hope he does, anyways. It's lonely without him, and I'm not nearly as focused without him constantly reminding me of what I'm _supposed_ to be doing. Knowing me, I'll probably become entirely distracted one something or other and hardly get a page read – for class or for him – in the few hours I should have before he gets home.

As I walk through the parking lot of our apartment building, I pass a group of young teenage, all laughing and joking and smoking in excessive amounts, grey wisps swirling about their heads like halos. A few look at my as I head by, with those usual teenage eyes - looking you up, down and all over in a sneering, judgemental way. I glare back.

You can tell those ones are the 'it' kids. All the kids that somehow feel they are better than everyone else to the extent that the everyone else starts believing it with them. When I was their age, I never really cared about them, and never really understood them either. And sometimes in high school, all the 'it' kids would get together and form one huge group, just one big 'it'. A huge moving blob that gnaws and slowly engulfs anything that doesn't quite fit. Pretty scary shit, that average teenage life.

I hurry past them and into the building, my body grateful as the heating takes effect and I'm no longer shivering every few seconds. Damn winter wind. I'm tired from the walk home so I take the elevator, even though it smells kinda weird, as always, in a way that can be described no other way then 'elevator smell'.

As I reach our door, I dig into my pocket for the key, having to strip off a glove so my numbed fingers can properly grip it. I'm about to unlock the door when I notice it's already open a crack… That's a little more than weird. I _know_ I locked this morning because I double-checked as to make _sure_ that I didn't forget. Or maybe Sesshou-maru is back early. That's probably it, yeah.

Stupid me being so freaking paranoid all the time…

I push open the door and step inside, thinking at first that the lights that are now on have confirmed my suspicions of Sesshou-maru being here. Taking a second glance at the living room, I find I am somewhat wrong.

And then I realize there's a gun pointed at my head, and somewhat turns into an understatement.

I'm _really_ fucking wrong.

I can see Bankotsu and Jakotsu sitting close but not touching on our couch and Suikotsu in a chair opposite, avoiding everyone's eyes. When he looks up at me he looks scared, almost like an animal, and… shamed? That can't be right…

Bankotsu is the one holding the weapon – sleek, black and larger than your average handgun. I've seen guns before, but no matter how many times one is pointed at you, you'll still get a chill, a skip-step-flutter in your heart, and a feel of intense vertigo crashing down on you. Vulgar words repeat over and over in my head, thoughts scattered and refusing to form coherence.

_Don't panic, don't panic…_

I'm too confused to panic.

What the Hell are they doing here? What are Bankotsu and Jakotsu, and Suikotsu all doing _together_? In my apartment which was locked this morning? And with a gun? A gun pointed at me?

"What is this? A practical joke?" I hear myself asking sarcastically, on the verge of mindlessness and all too nervous laughter.

The right side of Bankotsu's mouth lifts in grin. If his eyes reflect humour, it sure isn't the 'ha ha, got you good!' type.

"Nope," he says smoothly. "And I _don't_ suggest doing any moving, alright?"

_Holy fuck shit, he's not kidding, I don't think he's kidding, oh shit shit shit!_

"Hey, why'd it get so quiet all of a sudden? Hey!" a voice comes suddenly from the kitchen. I hear a few footsteps but can't see anything for a few moments due to the divider between where I am and the kitchen, but then a man comes into view. He glances at the others and the gun, then follows their looks over to where I'm still standing like a moron, the snow on my shoes melting onto the carpet. My socks are getting wet. Damn.

He doesn't look much older than Suikotsu, with his head is shaved bald and his black dress shirt and faded black jeans. A smouldering cigarette rests between his lips, held with a much more experienced way than the chain-smoking 'cool crowd', a long piece of sooty grey ask threatening to fall from the tip.

"Well, hello there," he says, raising a hand to his mouth to remove the cigarette before speaking. "I take it you're Kagura."

I nod. Who the fuck is this? And once more, _what the fuck is going on?_

"Nice to meet you," he chuckles.

Meanwhile, the intense look of displeasure on Suikotsu's face has deepened, his mouth twisted awkwardly and his cheeks blanched in the pale opposite of a blush.

"Is that really necessary?" he asks Bankotsu, glancing at the weapon that still stares me down. "Couldn't you put it away?"

Jakotsu rolls his eyes exaggeratedly and leans towards Suikotsu. "Oh, grow up, would you?" He reaches down beside him and picks up another gun - this one smaller - and dangles in front of his face with two elegant fingers.

"It's bad enough we didn't get to bring anything _fun_, but you want to spoil it by making us put away these too?" he asks in almost mock-injury.

"You're such a sadist," Suikotsu mumbles in return.

Jakotsu just laughs – light and airy like a child, but eerie and awful as well – as if he's said something incredibly funny. "Oh, I know! Even just _these_ give you ideas, don't they? Make the old you want to spill a little bit of blood?"

Lucky for me, the attention has now shifted almost entirely to Suikotsu, and I feel my muscles and lungs loosen. Suikotsu, though, is rapidly becoming unstable. His knuckles are going white as the skin stretches thin over them, fingers gripping the arms of the chair so tightly that it's almost shaking. The chair leg creaks as he shifts his weight; we both wince. This is… this is unlike any time I've ever seen him, just adding to the huge well of questions and fear is the result.

Yeah, I'm scared right now. Who in some state of sanity wouldn't be? Although the _'What the fuck?'_ s have calmed down, they've left me with a large, white space where my thoughts should be working to try and get this figured out. Kind of as if I've drifted off to somewhere else and have just decided to watch this whole thing unfold from afar while my body is set on autopilot. Comforting in the same way it unsettles me.

Eyes narrowed into slits, Suikotsu glares at Jakotsu. "Shut up…"

Jakotsu wears a smug smile, but before he can speak again, the bald man interrupts him.

"Lay off him, Jakotsu, seriously. We didn't come here to kill her. You're getting sidetracked."

I try not to exhale too quickly, but hearing that you're not going to die is a very, very good thing in a situation like this one. I'm tempted to sneak away while they're still bickering, but Bankotsu still has the gun pointed at me and I'm not stupid enough to try.

The weirdest thing about it is I don't trust him enough not to shoot me. Despite my confusion, all that is in front of me is real, or at least I think it is. I don't have time to play philosopher with myself right now, it will just give me a bitching headache. Maybe this… this is what the annoying little voice in the side of my head has been trying to warn me about the last month through my paranoia. I don't know.

I hate not knowing…

Jakotsu pouts at the bald guy. "But I thought we could kill her pretty little boyfriend if we wanted! And what are you talking about, _me_ getting side-tracked when _you_ raided their fridge and had a smoke! What the fuck is wrong with you, Renkotsu?"

The bald man (Renkotsu, I guess) shakes his head. "I did that before she got here, not right after. All you're here for is back-up and to pick the goddamn lock, which any of us could've done with a fucking paper clip anyways."

"You're an ass." Jakotsu spits.

"Look, shut up, both of you!" Bankotsu not quite yells, but his tone shuts both of them up.

Jakotsu crosses his arms, and looks away while Renkotsu goes on smoking (thank you, not only does someone I thought I knew point a gun at me without explanation, but his friend is trying to kill me with second hand smoke too. What a great day this is!). Suikotsu leans back in the chair with his eyes closed, as if trying to calm himself down.

"Kagura," Bankotsu says finally, and far too casually. "Come sit down."

Slowly, I coax my fear-struck body into moving. Slow step by slow step, I make my way into the living room, each detail of the four growing painfully closer and more vivid. Bankotsu moves over a little to make room for me on the far right of the couch, while he and Jakotsu take up the rest. Renkotsu remains standing.

"So," I say once I've taken my seat, "anyone care to tell me what the Hell is going on?"

Suikotsu opens his mouth, but Jakotsu shoots him a harsh glower.

"_You_ stay quiet for now."

Renkotsu mumbles something about Jakotsu PMS-ing, and the effeminate man goes back to sulking.

This has got to be the weirdest, most unorthodox incident of its sort ever. Did I fall off reality a little while ago and not notice? Did someone slip something into my goddamn coffee?

"_Anyways_," Bankotsu says to me, looking a little more than pissed off at this point, "we're here for a specific reason. And to make it clear, I'm probably not going to kill you."

Probably.

"You see," he continues, "my friends here - Suikotsu, Renkotsu, and Jakotsu - all used to be in the Shichinintai with myself three others. We were assassins, essentially. We killed and whatnot for whoever was paying, no loyalties and no rules. But we disbanded, for reasons that you don't need to know. A few of us continued doing the odd assignment, but for the most part led somewhat normal lives, blah blah blah…

"Just recently, though, Jakotsu, Renkotsu and I were approached with a job."

Jakotsu smirks. "That's you, honey."

"We were told to gain your trust in a way, and then after a few months or whenever we felt the time was right for it, have a meeting somewhat like this. So, yeah, we've been deceiving you ever since we met you, essentially." He gives a cocky smile at this, like it's no big deal at all. "You were to be taken alive. Anyone else's life was of no concern, as long as it didn't attract too much attention if we interfered. And things were going along just fine, until we met up with Suikotsu again…" Bankotsu gestures to the doctor, who is listening rather indolently, "which is where his part of the story comes in."

Suikotsu rolls his shoulders twice before leaning down to rest his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. Suikotsu a killer? I never would've guessed. He's one of the nicest men I've ever met… Just goes to show you never really know someone, I guess. Everyone's got secrets, skeletons in their closets…

Bad puns always have the worst timing, don't they?

"It's all kind of lucky, really," he says quietly to the table. "Kagura, you remember Kikyou, don't you?" A bitter smile. "When she was in the hospital after her…overdose, she began ranting uncontrollably to a nurse, trying to explain how she wasn't a drug addict and someone else had given her the injection. The nurse, of course, didn't believe her. I myself was unsure, thinking it was probably a delusion or an after-effect. She did continually mention a few names though, from what I could make out of her ramblings. And when one of these names came up again when I was talking to the girl whose family was recently killed, I was… well, suspicious."

I frown, shifting restlessly in my seat. "What does this have to do with _this_?"

"That name, Kagura, was Naraku."

…

Oh.

Oh, _fuck_.

"I did some research through some people I know here and there," Suikotsu said, "and it wasn't hard to find information about things he _supposedly_ had done, but there was hardly any solid proof. Then, I ran into these guys, and when the name came up again when they mentioned the job…" Suikotsu sighs again. "I convinced them to let me come and try to convince them out of it."

"So Naraku hired you?" I glance at Bankotsu accusingly.

He nods. "Good. You're not stupid."

And a few seconds later it actually clicks. "So m-my father knows I'm here! How much does he know? Why did he send you and-" The questions just keep pouring out, bitter on my tongue and hard to swallow. "What is he going to do when… Oh shit! Oh _shit_!"

Right now, I'm really wishing Sesshou-maru did come home early. No, no I don't, because Jakotsu said they were going to kill them and…

I'm suddenly bombarded with the sensation of drowning. There's something in my throat that won't get out and keeps building, choking me, causing pressure build-up in my head and I can't reach air.

"Calm down," Suikotsu tries. I can only half hear him beneath the currents in my head. It feels like it has swollen to twice the size it should be. He says something else, but that I don't hear at all. I hate this. I hate all of this happening right now. It's kind of weird; I feel like I should be in more of a state of panic, screaming and freaking out, but its all staying inside. Maybe my brain is being retarded today and hasn't yet absorbed it, or maybe I _have_ gotten used to this sort of thing happening…

I run through the situation quickly with myself before raising my eyes, which have gravitated down to the safety of my knees, back upwards.

"Now," I hear Bankotsu tell me quietly, "our good old friend Suikotsu has given us a few reasons why we _shouldn't_ go through with what Naraku wants us too. And you need to help persuade us. Got me?"

"I've got you," I snarl, not in the mood for his smooth-like-satin, taunting conversation.

But really, I have no idea what to say. 'My father is a bad, bad man. Please don't bring me back to him. I'm afraid he might…'

Oh God, what does Naraku want me back for anyways?

Being the genius I am, I decide to ask, knowing my own mind will probably come up with all sorts of unfortunate things if I don't get an answer.

Renkotsu shrugs to me as I do, flicking his cigarette to spill ashes onto the carpet by his feet. "I'm not too sure, but he wants you alive for it. We don't get those sort of details. Just what we're supposed to do and by when. That sort of thing."

_Damnit!_

And off runs my imagination…

I don't want this to happen. I don't want to go back to my father. I want to trust people for once in my fucking life, and I don't want to be shot, or for Sesshou-maru to be shot.

I cannot and will not go back to my father.

I seem to be reeking of uncertainty, as Suikotsu soon clears his throat to break the silence. After Renkotsu answered, my eyes had traveled back down as I struggled to control my breath, my heartbeat, and the things in my head.

_Oh, those things in my head again…_

How many times will this happen? I wanted to keep them down, keep them hidden where they can't affect the me of right now, but they keep coming! Why can't I get rid of them? Is there…

Is there something _wrong_ with me?

"First off," Suikotsu starts, "Naraku has… has done things much worse than the things we ever did, or ever considered doing."

"Is that just rumour or fact?" Jakotsu spits instantly.

Suikotsu looks to me. "Well, I guess… Kagura would be the only one able to confirm that."

And everyone focuses on me again. _Thanks_, Suikotsu.

"What have you heard?" I ask without raising my head.

Suikotsu mutters a few things.

I wonder if he's surprised or not when I nod, sinking back into the couch. "Oh yeah, and worse than that. My… my father…"

_Inhale, exhale._

"My father is a complete bastard, asshole, fucker, murderer, whatever words you want for him. He has no respect for anyone besides himself and has only ever used anyone else to get ahead in life. This includes the kids he adopts. I should know… I still can't tell, even now when I look back on it, when he was lying and when he was telling me the truth, though I doubt he ever did. Murder seems to be a hobby of his, and as far as I've seen, he can be pretty fucking creative with it… It's _sick_ what he does.

"Just getting involved with him was your first mistake. Very few people stay involved with him safely for long. He enjoys playing with people's heads, and I wouldn't be surprised if he has started in already on you. All this… all of this is a fucking _game_ to him. I know he's doing this to screw around with me. I can't think of any other reason why… "

_Exhale…_

My head reels, still grasping the situation as the words leaving my chap-lipped mouth in a steady flow trickle off, and I'm left to quiet yet again. Stuck in that half-in half-out of my body and mind state, I think I'm smiling blurrily at the carpet.

There. That's the truth about my father.

It's too bad I'll have to repeat it all for Sesshou-maru later. Before whenever I tried, I would feel myself getting angry with me, and everything got tangled up, and the words just stopped. Luckily, he would understand.

I don't have time to dwell on this, though, as I'm pulled right back into the conversation.

"So what if Naraku isn't exactly the nicest person on earth?" Renkotsu argues. "All I care about is getting paid. I mean-"

"I'm thinking," Bankotsu says icily. One finger taps idly against the gun. Renkotsu is quiet.

Too my surprise, Jakotsu shifts forwards a little to look past Bankotsu and straight at me, almost curiously. His eyes seem to penetrate and dig under my skin in a way that's enough to make me uncomfortable, but its not in the way that others (Kagewaki, my father) would to get a nauseating chill from of me. He looks as if he's about to say something, rosy lips opening in a hesitant way that annoys me a little, as it makes me anxious.

But then I hear the apartment door creak open behind us. Suikotsu startles, jerking his head up nervously (the poor guy looks like he really needs some Advil or something right now). Craning my neck to see, I find Sesshou-maru standing in the doorway, mini-suitcase in hand. Though appearing stoic, as usual, there's an obvious perplexity behind that as he glances quickly – urgently – at me. He surveys the scene a few seconds and then points at Renkotsu, who is still smoking carelessly.

"Put that out. Now."

Typical.

Renkotsu ignores him and cocks his head at me, taking a long drag. "This your pretty little boyfriend?"

Sesshou-maru chooses to disregard the comment haughtily. He looks slightly worn, as if he hasn't slept well in the days he was away. Coming back home to an apartment filled with men (wow, this probably doesn't look too good on my part, if you put it that way) armed with cigarettes, guns and more questions about your hair care choices would probably put me in an even worse mood too.

"You might want to come sit down," I say once my voice finds its way out of my stomach once again. "There's quite a lot to tell you."

In one glance, he understands.

After Sesshou-maru drags over another chair from the kitchen, Suikotsu calmly explains to him what they explained to me. When you put it down to essential, a few ex-assassins were sent to kidnap me, and I was bartering for me freedom, and now, Sesshou-maru's life as well. If they do decide to take me, Sesshou-maru will be…

I didn't mean to drag him into all this. If he gets hurt because of shit _I_ did, then that's… I wouldn't be able to take that.

My eyes close quickly and I try to erase the thought, squeezing Sesshou-maru's hand a little harder than I meant to. He hasn't said anything since he sat down, but he squeezes back.

"I still don't get why we're even here," Renkotsu mumbles.

Bankotsu, however, has moved the gun away from us. He holds it freehandedly, letting it rock back and forth over his hand as he thinks. A sly grin plays on his lips and that deviousness I have seen before and recognize lights up his eyes. Jakotsu, watching closely, raises an eyebrow.

"So…" Bankotsu starts. "You say Naraku views all of this as a game, right?"

"Basically." I answer, trying not to sound too hopeful.

_Oh please oh please oh please!_

"We're just players, then…"

"You've got an idea, don't you?" Jakotsu comments, and he nods.

"If this guy thinks he's so powerful, fucking around with everyone like he does… I think it would be fun to mess up his little game." His fingers play restlessly with the lustrous surface of the weapon. "Yeah… I think that'd be a lot of fun. What about you two?"

Jakotsu smiles right back at him, sweet and sadistic. It reminds me of a strange sort of angel. "You know, we haven't had that sort of _fun_ in a long time…"

"As long as we're not playing hero," Renkotsu snorts. "Not like I have a choice, though, if you two are both in on it."

"We're not playing hero at all," answers Bankotsu. "Consider it a challenge. Beat the master at his own game."

Suikotsu looks up and gives me a weary smile. I suppose this is a sort of revenge for him; Kikyou did seem like a daughter to him after all, and I would want justice for her if I were in his shoes. Then again, I can be a rather vindictive person, so…

I'm thoughtless as I lean into Sesshou-maru's shoulder over the arm of the couch, so relieved nothing else can poke its way through. I'm not going back to my father… there's no way I'm going back… and Sesshou-maru isn't going to have to die… I wouldn't have let them anyways. My mind runs through the situation in brief, white-hot flashes. One of them pointing the gun at him, finger on the trigger and squeezing. Blood splattering on the wall behind him as… _Fucking God…_

I would crack.

The weight of the situation seems so much heavier afterwards. My mind can barely keep up… Everything seems blurred and vague, details all running together and smudging. I want to go to bed and worry about it tomorrow, but know I can't.

I feel oddly delighted as the words come out of Bankotsu's mouth. They're going to kill my father. 'Go out with a bang!'; one last job for the remaining members of the Shichinintai, and then they'll go back to the simple life.

Still, I'm perturbed that Bankotsu and Jakotsu – these people I thought I knew, and how easily – stupidly – I fell into the illusion. Stupid, stupid, stupid and ridiculously lucky. I'll have to thank Suikotsu profusely afterwards. Just how easy I've been falling into this sort of thing is unnerving me… guess I'm not nearly as tough as I thought. I still don't know if they're telling the truth at all, about any of this, but all I can really do right now is cross my fingers and try to get the situation to come out as best it can.

I've survived this far, haven't I?

Sesshou-maru kisses the top of my head softly as the others continue to discuss quietly with each other what's going to be done.

They're going to kill my father and finally, _hopefully_, it'll all be over.

For good this time.

End chapter 16


	17. happenstance and discordance

_life in moderation_

chapter 17: happenstance/discordance

AN: I apologize for the wait. Exams among other things have begun to eat me alive. I still adore you guys and your reviews mean a lot; you motivate me to keep going with this! It should be coming to a close within the next few months (if all goes according to schedule, which it probably won't).

I hope you enjoy this chapter! Much love,

Ebony

**Usual disclaimers apply.**

o

One arm hangs down from the couch so her fingertips brush the beige-coloured carpet below, the other resting over her stomach and partially covering the book (my book) sitting open there. Kagura fell asleep there about a half hour ago while trying to read it. To be frank, it does make me slightly nervous to have her read it and that feeling makes me even more uneasy, as I have never really had such a thing infect me as such any time previously. I suppose if my parents were alive I would be rather anxious on what they would think of it, but with parents, things are always different…

I do suppose I am rather pleased with it, though. I know for a fact Jaken is, after slaving over it to make sure every little detail was perfect before printing out the final draft. He's rather useful in his devotion, I must say.

Kagura's thumb is caught between pages 32 and 33. I'm actually surprised she got that far without falling asleep first, despite her declarations of not being tired out in the least. She's had quite a long day, and that is an understatement entirely. I may not be an expert on the subject, but coming home to find assassins in your home who had claimed to be your friends is not exactly that most relaxing series of events.

It was somewhat odd, actually. After we had worked everything out with them (Bankotsu, Jakotsu, Suikotsu and Renkotsu, if I recall correctly), they up and left, and we had dinner in silence as if nothing had happened. Kagura's the type to do that though, and I've become angry with her for it before… It's a habit she's picked up when things got rough to try to keep herself balanced, and as long as it's keeping her from slipping over the edge, I suppose I can tolerate small amounts of it for the time being.

Again, I find myself worrying over her much more than I ever thought I would…

She shifts in her sleep, mumbling quietly to herself, incoherent and almost inaudible. I watch her from the couch, looking for a sign of the nightmares that had plagued her so often before. So far, there is none. Hair mussed, make-up smudged, soft-lipped and peaceful she continues slumbering. Part of me wants to join her there on the couch; I've had a stressful week as well and my body lusts for rest in a bed that doesn't smell like cleaning supplies like the ones at the hotel. However, I doubt I could squeeze in there without waking her up, which I really don't want to do (she needs it more than me), but I don't want to go to the bedroom and sleep there while she remains out here…

Ah well. I'll be fine here a while longer. Some part of me knows I won't sleep very well anyways. My mind won't let me. I keep thinking, over and over, why it could be that Naraku wants her back _now_? Just what have I gotten myself into through her?

She smiles in her sleep, sorrowfully.

o

Just like the photograph on my desk, every time I read the letter from Kikyou, it is the same. I found it on my desk when I arrived home two weeks ago, after the whole confrontation in Kagura's apartment with Bankotsu and all them. It's unbelievably relieving to know they won't kill her (my other side snorts bitterly at this), but what we have planned now is just as worrying. From what I've heard of this Naraku person, he's dangerous and it's a bad idea to cross him. Even when you are a group of skilled but slightly less-than-sane ex-assassins. We really don't have a choice though. The only other way would be for Kagura to be turned over to him and they complete the job…

Yes, I think I prefer this way _much_ more.

But as big an issue as that is, my mind keeps wandering to the other matter on hand, and despite myself, I unfold the piece of paper in my lap and begin reading it again.

_Dear Suikotsu,_

_Thank you for your letter. _

_The amount of time I've been in here has been surprising, hasn't it? I suppose I was rather stubborn at the beginning, sticking with my story and refusing to participate in group therapy. They didn't believe me, of course, so I had to give in and pretend to admit to trying to kill myself with an overdose and such. It's been painful, but the doctor has finally pronounced me 'cured'. They're quite proud of it, so it seems, but that's not the point of the letter._

_If I'm able to convince them, you should be receiving a phone call some time after you receive this letter. Since they're letting me go but I'm still a minor, they've taken them upon myself to try and find me a home. Needless to say, I don't want to be placed just anywhere with anyone. I asked them if you could become my legal guardian. They have their doubts about this, but please try to convince them. I've missed you, and missed the clinic… It would mean a lot if I could come back. I don't want to be here any longer. Besides, I've got quite a few stories to tell you, that's for sure._

_I'm sorry for the shortness of this letter, but I want to get it to you as soon as possible. I'm doing quite well and hope to see you again soon._

_Sincerely,_

_Kikyou_

I've been in the waiting room for ten minutes or so, flipping through various magazines and such before giving up and just staring at the wall nervously while my hands play with the pile of papers on my lap. Of course, they haven't been able to make me her legal guardian in only two weeks, but the process has been started and I've filled out the necessary and very tedious paperwork. After several phone interviews, an inspection of my living spaces done by a very small and nosy man who didn't seem to like me but gave the okay anyways, they've given me the okay.

It's amazing how lucky I've been lately, between this and the incident with Kagura. If all goes well today, Kikyou will be coming home with me _today_. My heart feels as if it's been keeping up this rapid pace since I heard the news, always thudding away rhythmically within my chest.

Finally, the secretary (a rather tall young woman in a black skirt and jacket with an eerie look about her) calls my name, and I stand a little too quickly.

"Y-yes?"

Here we go. This is it. No time for voices in my head or other worries, I just have to keep my head level with _this_ and everything will be okay.

"Come this way, Eisei-san," she says curtly, and begins off down the hall

I protest: "That's alright, I-I'm sure I can find it my-"

She shakes her head, pausing to look over her shoulder at me over the top rims of her glasses. "We don't want you to get lost, now do we?" And then with a little smirk, "Besides, you don't know what some of our young female inmates might do if they get their hands on a catch like you…"

Women scare me sometimes…

I can tell why Kikyou would hate it here. For starters, the walls aren't white but a pale blue that seems to burn at your retinas if you stare at them for too long. The halls are quite wide and lined with doors, numbers and residents listed beside each one. Uniform and equipped with winding hallways, this place could probably make someone like go insane if they weren't already (which is likely, in my case). It's unfortunate as well; there's nothing to distract me as my eyes wander the bland hallway to distract myself from my jitteriness. My God, I'm acting like a boy in junior high going on his first date!

I can't help it though. I'm ridiculously nervous about seeing her again. Places like this change people, for better and worse… for all I know, she could be a different person entirely. Who knows if they'll even let me take her?

We stop beside door number 75 – the door of the room the meeting is in, and the door that Kikyou is currently behind. I think the secretary senses my nervousness because she pauses and gives me a little smile.

"Just go in when you're ready," she tells me and motions to the door before turning sharply to leave. The clacking of her high-heels trails off into the distance, and I use the staccato pace as a metronome to regulate my uneven breaths with, rolling my neck and shoulders in a last-minute attempt to get the knots out.

It's only when I notice the silence that I figure I'll be all right to go in.

I open the door, cold metal under my sweaty palms, gathering myself-

And there she is.

At the sound of the door closing behind me she looks up, and our eyes lock. She looks so much like I remember her, if a little thinner, and paler in the face. Her hair is cut short now (to her shoulders, I would guess, which is a pity. It used to be to her waist and Ruri and Hari adored playing with it.) and held back in a small, inky ponytail that hangs about her elegant neck. Even in the plain white T-shirt and black sweatpants she wears, she looks somehow regal and graceful, gazing up at me with a welcoming smile. Her eyes, though… her eyes look older, and harder, I suppose. Just seeing her though, after so long – alive and well though not as vibrant as she once was – just that is enough to overthrow any doubt in my mind about any of this and replace it with determination.

"Eisei Suikotsu, I presume?" the doctor sitting across from Kikyou says. Dumbfounded, I glance over at him.

He smiles, and gives me a little wink. _How long have I been staring?_ I wonder in embarrassment.

"Please. Take a seat."

The meeting goes by in a dizzying blur, like I'm on a carousel that's moving way too fast. We answer questions in the fashion well-disciplined schoolchildren, regurgitating the information they want to hear with dashes of personality and determination to please thrown in. Kikyou does it too, I notice, though she's much less talkative than I am. The hardest questions are the ones regarding our relationship, though I've gone through them all before over. It feels like we're lying a little, you know? It's a grey area – we aren't really _lying_ to them, but the whole truth is not there either. I try to keep my eyes on the two men and on the many documents being passed between us, but they keep wandering over to Kikyou, sweeping her steady jaw line, the strong form of her arms and her hands resting delicately in her lap-

Stop, stop, just _stop_!

Her eyes meander over to me as well sometimes, and the reaction produced the second our glances stumble and catch feels electric.

No, really, _stop it_.

Somehow, through this stupor, I manage to answer all the questions correctly, and the next thing I'm hearing is, "It's glad to know Kikyou has someone willing to take her in, Eisei-san. Her luggage has already been moved down to the lobby, so you two can go. It was good to meet you."

One after another, they shake my hand, almost as if I've won the lottery. The wire-haired doctor old-aged first, smiling brashly, and the other man (I guess he was a lawyer or involved with the law in someway; see, I really wasn't paying attention, stupid me!), all business suit and expensive looking tie second. We all exited the small room, and then it was just Kikyou and me alone in the silence of the hall. Above, I can hear footsteps pacing and the buzzing of fluorescent lights.

I'm coming out of my daze now, full of relief and worry still, but I remain frozen in my spot. Damn. Which way was it to the lobby again…?

It's Kikyou who moves first.

"Come on," she says softly, smiling warmly and gently. "We have to go this way." In her real voice too; the one I'm used to hearing. Back in the room it felt robotic, rehearsed…

It's still sinking in. Kikyou is coming home. With me. To live with me.

Kikyou is okay.

_Kikyou is real._

I realize that last statements sounds a little strange, but in her absence I sometimes started thinking that maybe she was just someone I had made up. I do that a lot with the memories of the things I've been through, maybe to try and make the acceptance easier, maybe just because I'm odd. We are only made of our memories, after all. That is how we know who we are. How can someone go through life without questioning that?

I follow shortly behind her, taking short note of the long stride she uses; comfortable and confident. She's not afraid of this place.

We don't talk at all, and I can't think of anything to say. Maybe my brain is still scrambling to catch up to everything happening. We reach the waiting room and walk right through to the lobby, empty save the two security guards standing by the door with metal detectors beside them like quiet allies and the black suitcase leaning against one wall. Kikyou quickly reaches for it, but I beat her to it.

"Let me take it," I say, and watch her withdraw.

"Alright…"

The ordeal with the guards is short. They seem to know her as they smile and joke a little. It's just a quick explanation, here are our papers, good luck and good bye; then we're out and walking over hard concrete as we head towards the car I rented for the day to come down here. The air feels much richer out here, even if it is most likely filled with toxic fumes of some sort.

Kikyou winces, dropping her eyes to her feet.

"It's been a while," she mumbles in explanation, "since I've seen sunlight like this."

I nod. "You're lucky; today's been the first sunny day in a while. It's still pretty cold though… oh. Here."

She looks slightly surprised as I take off my jacket and drape it over her shoulders. I'm tempted to zip it up for her, but don't.

"But you-"

I cut her off. "You shouldn't be out here in just a T-shirt. Jeez, I'm failing at this whole legal guardian thing already …"

In response, she just smiles, but even that is more than enough. And as I open the car door for her, I feel her supple palm brush against my elbow, eyes to the ground as she whispers, "thank you."

For the majority of the time I'm putting her luggage in the rink (which, I admit, I prolonged) I try to temper the intense burst of warmth taking control of my body in stuttered words and flushed cheeks. I keep trying to tell myself that Kikyou is like a younger sister to me, but… she's not. She means something more to me, or at least she did. Maybe. I don't know.

We'll get to that eventually, I guess.

I hop into the front seat and start the rental car, Kikyou is fiddling with a thin thread hanging from the hem of her T-shirt.

"When we get home," I say as I turn on the heater, "I'm sure Ruri and Hari will want to take you shopping down at that old thrift store you like."

She nods, presumably settling into that quiet she keeps once again. It's hard to pinpoint just what's going on with her right now, and I wonder if I should talk to her or not. There's definitely a lot going on inside her head right now; more than I could imagine. Her expression is steady as she stares out the window with her stony grey eyes, and I find myself having to force myself to watch the road instead of her. Her body betrays nothing, leaving all the decisions up to me.

"I-I'm sorry if this is too soon," I say eventually, "but there are some things I need to talk to you about…"

"Go ahead," she responds.

"If you're sure-"

"I'm _fine,_" she says. "Believe me. Being in there was… well, unnerving sometime, but I'm ready to be here; to start working again, and to go back there, and be around you. I want to act as if nothing happened, but I know that is impossible, so I'd prefer to just clear up any mystery or misunderstanding and get on with life. There really was no reason for me to be there in the first place, though sometimes…in there… I really did feel like I was not right of mind. Maybe what they thought I'd done was real… I didn't know for a small period of time there…"

"I don't think you're like that; not right of mind," I tell her quickly. It's true; if anything, she's much saner than I ever will be. "But it was those things that happened before that I wanted to ask you about, actually."

"Oh?"

The car jolts as we go over a bump in the road. My hands are sweaty but cold against the wheel, the joints almost sore from the numbness.

"Yes, it… well, I kind of wanted to let you settle in a bit before we started to talk; I have enough money to rent an apartment now, where we'll stay. It is a little urgent, though."

At this, she looks towards me intently. "Urgent?"

Shit. I've gone and messed this all up already.

"What do you need to know?" she asks rather solemnly.

"Well, it's not-"

"Suikotsu."

I sigh. "That name I heard you mention; it's about that person. Naraku."

Kagura's father. That awful man…

The look in Kikyou's eyes darkens as I quickly glance over, and again regret saturates my thoughts. I'm really not good about gong about these things you see; I'm usually alright with conversation, but when it comes to personal confrontation involving _me_, and especially when it involves _Kikyou_, that's when my tongue starts to slip and I can hardly control the words as they spin from my mouth. The information Kikyou may have about Naraku might be useful to us. There's a lot of uncertainty about it, but right now we're looking for all the help we can get. Sesshou-maru is accompanying Kagura just about everywhere. Bankotsu and Jakotsu are keeping up the act as normal. Even so, we're all on our toes constantly, or at least I am. This damn paranoia follows my every move like a close-clinging shadow.

"Y-you know, Kikyou," I start choking out as those second doubts pop up beside my worry of hurting her accidentally by bringing it up. "You don't need to talk right this instant. It's alright if you need some time or you-"

"_Stop_ Suikotsu," she interjects again. "You don't have to act like this."

Even now, it's surprising how old she often seems in her demeanour and way of speech. In her lap, her fingers intertwine with each other as she watches the woman in the car next to us for a moment; blonde hair, pink lipstick, chatting animatedly on her cell-phone. An impractically small dog yaps at her in the back seat and she leans over her shoulder to shush it, swerving dangerously over to the side. The scenery continues to blur by as the woman speeds past us and Kikyou settles back into her seat to speak.

"Sometimes," she murmurs, "I think it would have been easier if I _had_ just tried to kill myself."

"What do you mean?" I ask in alarm, again having to force myself to stay concentrated on driving. I got my licence, but when you live in the city its much more practical to walk as opposed to sitting in traffic and wasting gas. The car jolts again.

"I was planning on telling you anyways," says Kikyou firmly. "The only way to know if to know the whole story…"

Her face transforms suddenly, becoming almost overcome with emotion, as if the mask cracked and she finally let a little bit of what's inside her seep out. It's painful to watch and not to know. Sunlight accents some parts of her face and leaves others dark, silhouetting the thick hair pulled back into her ponytail. I watch her compose herself from the corner of my eye, waiting, not knowing what to say.

I wish I did. I wish things could be different…

"A while ago – last March or February, I think – I was doing a few chores at the temple when I came across a man. He was just lying there in the back alley. His body was burned all over, badly, all blisters and charred skin; completely disfigured, especially his face. There were rats on him too… I thought he was dead until he moved a little and looked at me."

_Leering through bloodied slits…_

"Since he was alive, I told him I was going to call an ambulance. It looked as if that he protested, but I just chased the rats off him and ran to the nearest phone I could find. I couldn't just leave him there…" She shudders slightly, wrapping her arms over her abdomen a little tighter. "I went to the hospital the next day, since I felt bad for him and wanted to know if he had lived or died. It frightened me to know that I controlled his fate in a way; if I had stumbled across him a little earlier, maybe he would've had a better chance of living, and if later, a better chance of dying.

"He was alive, though. They put him in intensive care, but told me he would probably have scars all his life, and the cartilage in his nose was gone, only repairable through plastic surgery. His hair follicles had all melted off too…" She stops here a moment. I give her time; I'll give her as much as she wants.

I've seen burn victims before; it's never pretty, and extremely painful. Think about how much it hurts just to burn your finger on a stove. Imagine that all over your body!

"I went back to the hospital a few times after that," Kikyou continues. She's begun playing with the thread on her shirt again, wrapping it around and around her finger.

"You never told me about any of this…" I say.

She turns her face away from mine a little. "It seemed unimportant at the time."

"Well, obviously it was," I mutter, acting on my bitterness. I'm embarrassed for myself; Kikyou acts older than I do. "You should've told me anyways."

"I'm sorry," she responds under her breath. The sounds of traffic fill our pause beneath the sounds of the heater.

"Continue. Please."

My other side is laughing at me again.

"He told me his name was Onigumo. I don't know if that was his real name or not, because the nurse kept calling him Sakumi-san. He healed quickly; a lot faster than they thought he would… it was around the time he was going home that things started getting bad… no, that's not the right way to put it." She lets the thread unravel, the tone of her skin evening out as the blood began to flow again.

"Inuyasha," she pauses. "You remember him, I presume. He didn't like the fact that I was still visiting Onigumo on occasion, so…"

_He_ knew, but _I_ didn't? Well of course he knew, after all, he was her…

Ugh, this isn't the time for such things. What's wrong with me today?

"…we got in an argument of sorts," Kikyou goes on, voice dwindling slightly. "I guess he was worried for the right reasons but he has an odd way of showing it. He thought Onigumo wanted to take advantage of me, but I thought nothing of it at the time. Maybe he was right."

_That grin, gleefully malicious, thinking delicious thoughts._

_About her._

It's all I can do not to slam my foot down on the brake. "_What_?"

"He didn't do anything to me," Kikyou reassures me, reverting back to that soft in-control voice of hers, "but… thinking of it now, he probably did. He stopped by the temple a few times, but I was only there once. He talked a little, asked me to go somewhere with him… I couldn't, I told him. All I could do was look at my feet and say no; it was too painful to look at his face. He still wore bandages and a lot of it had healed but… it was so grotesque. I still don't know what he wanted, and I'd prefer not to think about it. Could you turn down the heat a little?"

It takes me a second to respond.

"Oh, sure…"

"Thank you." She begins picking at the thread again. "The next time I came across him was when he died. Another episode of fate, I guess. I heard something in that same back alley behind the temple and forced myself to look. He was there, Onigumo, and the man I assume was Naraku, as that was what Onigumo called him. They were arguing, loudly. From what I got from it, Onigumo was working for Naraku, and while doing some sort of 'job' he had gotten burned. Some sort of deal had gone wrong. They continued fighting…"

"A-and then?" I ask, anxious.

"The only thing I remember for sure," she pulls the thread tight, "is that Naraku put a gun to Onigumo's head and shot him straight through."

_A gunshot ringing, her ears burning…_

_The blood._

"I ran, hoping he wouldn't see me. It didn't seem like he followed me, so I thought I was safe. At first I thought it had been a hallucination or a dream, but it didn't feel like one at all. I decided I would tell the police; it was the only thing to do. Unfortunately…"

Realization strikes viciously, like a snakebite, and the feeling echoes a while afterwards (venom shooting up through the veins). It was all just by pure happenstance that she came upon them, that she ended up…

When I look over at me she's smiling, but not in a happy sort of way. My other half is laughing even harder now; he finds this all very amusing. The sound is muffled, however, since I took 50mg extra today. Just in case.

The thread on her shirt has snapped by this time, and she's begun tying it in knots with her deft fingertips. "You understand then."

"I think so. But how did he-"

"I don't know either," Kikyou tells me. "It was early; there weren't many people on the street, and it was fast… Someone grabbed me. I blacked out. They must've set it up as a suicide attempt to cover everything up, and somehow gotten into the clinic to put me there… Of course, that's all in theory. Maybe I am insane; maybe I did that to myself."

I shake my head. "That's absurd."

"Is it?"

I choose not to give her an answer, if she did actually want one. "Thank you telling me that, Kikyou. I guess… the important thing is that you're here, and safe. We should be home in a bit, and you can rest. It'll be… it'll be good to have you back. I missed you."

She smiles again, and this time looks like she means it.

"I missed you too."

The words mean so much more when I hear them, rather than when read from paper.

Sound I grasp, and cling to.

o

"Hey."

Sesshou-maru looks up as he walks into the kitchen. His hair is damp from the shower, hanging in long strands down his back. A little bit of shaving cream lingers right near his ear, but I choose not to say anything.

"Who was on the phone?" he asks as he sits down, knocking a waterlogged piece of hair from his face. The mental image of him shaking like a dog pops up, and I take a second to control my snigger before answering.

"Mieko-chan. We talked about school and then girl-talked for a while. Nothing you'd be interested in." I answer.

"There was another call, wasn't there?"

Can he actually hear the phone ringing in the freaking shower?

I point at the sandwich on the plate in front of him. "Start eating and I'll tell you."

Eyebrows twisted in amusement and confusion, he picks up the sandwich (the bread burnt from the toaster, brown by not yet black). Crumbs sprinkle onto the plate quietly as he takes a small bite of the lunch I made. I sit down beside him, hoping the food is decent (or at least edible). I'm not the greatest cook, unless you like your food overdone or from a can, and would never make a good housewife. Unless of course you're talking about the ones from that TV show. Now _those_ sure aren't your average cardboard cut-out housewives.

"The other person," I tell him, "was Bankotsu."

He perks up immediately, but with his cheeks full of sandwich, he can't interrupt. He looks kind of like a chipmunk like that…

"They spoke with Naraku this morning," I continue, "They told him that it's taking a bit longer than they expected and all that. He's getting impatient though. Jakotsu asked how much 'damage' they were allowed to do to me, and he said they can do as much as they want to my body as long as my mind is intact."

"He wants something you know." Sesshou-maru murmurs.

I smirk. "Thank you Captain Obvious. Now I just have to figure out what it is…"

"Kagura," he says sternly, setting the sandwich down. Uh oh, I'm in for a lecture. "You can't just act however you want and hope things will turn out like you usually do. You know what your father is capable of, and we still need to be cautious."

"I know."

He gives me a look.

"No, really!" I say. "I'm just trying not to let it consume me, so I don't get overly paranoid and do something stupid like I probably would. Besides, when you're trying to remember things, people say you should just stop thinking about it for a while and it'll come to you."

Sesshou-maru still looks uneasy. "I still think you should be a little more careful."

I swallow my brash recklessness whole, feeling it scrape down painfully. He's more than probably right and I know it.

"Okay," I respond. "I'll be more careful. I mean it. I promise."

Leaning forwards, I rest my head on his dampened shoulder and inhale the enduring fragrance of scented soap from the supermarket, and underneath I can smell him… Memories rise like soft bubbles in my head. Maybe, something will remind me of that thing Naraku wants to know. I've sifted through my memories, but can't find anything yet.

"Kagura?" Sesshou-maru asks again.

"Yeah?" I ask, not lifting my head.

He sighs, and wraps an arm around me. "Nothing."

"Well then, I've got an idea," I tell him, the fine hairs of his neck moving as my breath sweeps over them. "How about you promise me to be careful as well?"

I feel him kiss the top of my head. "Promise."

o

Kagome's voice is infectious, piercing through my ratty toque and right into my ears. Goddamn squawking. I wonder if she's even realized I'm not really listening anymore, and if she has, why the Hell is she still talking?

_Ugh, my head…_ I've got a huge bitch of a headache, and every little noise makes it worse. It feels like something died in my brain while trying to eat it and then vomited, or something.

"Inuyasha? _Inuyasha?_" Kagome asks, and I turn to look at her angrily.

"What do you want?"

She looks frightened for a moment, before that turns to anger. "You don't need to snap at me like that!"

"Keh. I'll do whatever I want…" I turn and continue walking, realizing suddenly that I haven't been down to this part of the city in a while. It looks different than it usually does, with a fresh blanket of snow covering the garbage littering the sidewalk and the general rundown-ness of it. Why did she follow me? Places like this aren't for people like Kagome…

"I was asking you if you were hungry," she grumbles. "Are you?"

"Not really."

"Well, when was the last time you ate?"

I don't even remember…

This place looks far too familiar now. I turn right down a wider street that probably heads back into a bigger part of the city, Kagome still at my heels. I'll get her to somewhere she knows and then ditch her; she can get home by herself. I just don't feel like putting up with anyone today; it's not just her. I don't like today in general. It just feels bad. Some people are like that; you can just tell with one glance that you're going to hate them. Days are the same.

"Hey! _Hey_! Are you even listening to me?"

And then I see her.

My feet stop, and I feel Kagome's forehead knock into my shoulder. She curses loudly (probably picked that up from me), but the rest of what she says I don't hear. I can hear wind, whistling through the maze of channels that are streets between tall buildings, but even that is muted by just the sight of _her_.

Kikyou.

She's standing by a car parked in a small driveway, bundled up inside a man's jacket and dark sweatpants. Her mouth moves, talking to a man standing near her (I've seen him before, but I dunno where). He smiles and laughs, taking a suitcase from the trunk.

I glance around quickly. Now I know why I recognized this place…

"My God, what's with you today Inuyasha?" Kagome yells aggressively. I glance down to her, and then back to Kikyou. Unlike before, I don't see the things they share but the ones they don't.

Kikyou must've heard Kagome's yell, because she looks over and meets my eye. Any of the stupid doubts I had weighing me down are gone, instantly.

She's back.

Kikyou is back.

ende chapter 17


	18. Paint Broken Glass

_life in moderation_

chapter 18: Paint Broken Glass

Notes: Nothing to say this time besides "I'm sorry for the wait, guys!"

**disclaimed.**

o

Everyone has their habits and idiosyncrasies, whether developed from nervousness, annoyance or something else entirely. People work in routines and personalities have patterns; predicting them is easy enough if you've got half a brain and the will to look. There really is no way to escape them either, and that makes for one of my favourite ways to get the best of someone. Just slip beneath someone's skin and burrow yourself in deep until they begin to itch from it, badly. Make them scratch their own flesh open into gaping pomegranate holes, dripping sweet with redness. Make them tear it open, more and more until they destroy themselves…

Now that is the kind of victory I truly enjoy watching. _Very_ entertaining.

Habits and idiosyncrasies; that is how I can tell something is bothering Bankotsu. First of all, he's humming. Bankotsu never hums, mainly because he's tone deaf. Not only this, but his feet are tapping restlessly (and rhythmlessly) against the floor, the movement of his hands jerky and indecisive as he puts his socks back on. He's done these things before; next he'll start drinking a lot of milk – I know, it's weird, but that's what he does – and after that he'll get really frazzled and shower three times a day.

I'm tempted to just sit and watch him from here at the other end of the bed. He sits with his legs hanging down to the floor, half-dressed in only his jeans, with his hair undone in long wavelengths of black-black-black hair that is simply lovely to tangle my fingers in. I study the tanned and finely muscled skin of his back as he bends for the shirt carelessly left on the floor. I guess that would be my fault, but making love in the morning (early afternoon, actually, since we both sleep late) is often just so wonderful, and he looked so _delicious_ with his hair all messy like it was that I couldn't resist! He served me breakfast in an _apron_, for Gods sakes; the least I could do was strip and give him a good fuck or two before…

Well, anyways.

Keeping one cotton bed-sheet wrapped around me, I crawl forwards to him and lift my hands to touch his shoulders. He starts immediately, the muscles tensing and becoming hard beneath the skin. I push in my fingers in.

"I'm going to be late, Jakotsu," he mutters to me, but despite his annoyance, he's most definitely enjoying it. Guilty pleasures – yummy. "I'd love to go again, but I've got a class…"

I press my fingers in a bit harder, manipulating the knots in the tissue until they begin to loosen.

"It's not that; you just looked kinda tense."

"Well…"

My thumbs begin tracing small circles on the back of his neck. "What are you worried about, hm? And don't you dare deny it, or else."

"Or else what?"

"I'll punish you…" I murmur, smiling to myself. Aw, now I kind of hope he does deny it. Punishment sounds fun.

His mouth cracks with laughter as he gradually lets himself lean back to rest against me. Giving in so easily?

"Is it about that woman and Naraku and everything?" I ask.

Bankotsu nods. "What the Hell else would it be about? I dunno. I guess I'm still just not really sure…" His words are cut off in a moan as one of the taut bundles in his shoulders finally comes undone, now lax and soft. I smirk a little despite myself.

"I don't care what happens to that girl," I tell him frankly. "Whatever we do is fine with me, as long as it's fun. And murdering Naraku sounds quite a bit more _enjoyable_ then just handing over a girl for some cash, in my opinion."

Bankotsu laughs again. "You're such a sadist."

"I know, dear."

My hands flit away from his shoulders as he pulls on his shirt, then back again to manage his hair into one thick, long braid. He's still anxious, but at least he's not humming anymore.

I remember… one of the things we decided in the Shichinintai all those years ago was that we'll all die without regrets. If we're defeated, then it's because we reached the end of the line. Everyone gets there eventually and there's no point in worrying over it. Live the way you want to live. Fight your hardest and don't sell yourself short. Why should you? It's your life to live however you goddamn want to. You've got one shot to make it your best. I still hold this very, very true.

If I die while trying to kill Naraku, I'll die beside Bankotsu. Perhaps with him…

Fixing an elastic around the end of the braid, I kiss his neck softly.

If I die while trying to kill Naraku, while going all out for the thrill of the bloodshed, I know I'll die without regret. And that is enough for me.

o

"Kikyou…"

Inuyasha takes a step forwards towards the black-haired girl and away, staring at her with a quiet fierceness, stronger than that he usually shows. This girl seems a little out of place to me, as she stands idly beside the small out-dated car with that large jacket draped over her shoulders for warmth (but probably not enough). The jacket looks like it belongs to the man next to her, a small black suitcase held in his hands. It seems very quiet all around us now, though the city is still very much alive. It's so strange to me, how Inuyasha just stopped still as soon as he saw the girl. Then again, he has been acting oddly all day…

He says her name again, and the girl's steely eyes flickers up to meet ours – well, to Inuyasha's; not mine – and my breath catches a little with the force contained in them. Somehow, she manages to keep her face as still and emotionless all the while, just like the face of one of those dolls you keep all wrapped in their boxes and put on shelves. You never play with them. I remember having a few, and I was almost afraid to touch them for fear I'd drop them and they'd shatter. Her eyes are so much like theirs that I find myself feeling a little bad for her.

_They seem like painted glass…_

And I hate to admit it, but she is kinda pretty, even dressed in such a way and with such pained eyes, (though it's possible they make her even more pretty). Much better than the girls in my class that pile make-up on their faces and laugh too loudly all the time. Yes, she's pretty; pretty, and if I'm allowed to say it, a little like me. Just a little, though, if she even does at all. Maybe…

I'm tempted to reach up my hand and tug at Inuyasha's sleeve, to ask him about who this girl is, but I know he wouldn't even hear me if I tried. He seems completely focused on her, like she's the only thing that matters right now to him. And maybe she is. Maybe they're old friends, or something (something more?)… but I really have no way of knowing unless he tells me. There are too many maybes going around in my head right now, and it just makes me all the more confused.

"I wasn't expecting to see you so soon, Inuyasha," the girl says. Then she smiles just a little and I don't want to know if she's mocking him or not. "What an interesting stroke of fate this is."

"You never told me were coming back!" he shouts angrily to her, scowling.

"I had no way to contact you," Kikyou answers calmly. "You know that."

"Yeah, well…" Inuyasha jerks his head down to look at the ground, and then back up to her. "Well, you're back now, aren't you? Are you going to explain things or what?"

She shakes her head. "Now isn't the time."

Inuyasha's eyes narrow, darken, and I know that he's getting really frustrated now, with both her and himself. And I can't help but wonder… _Oh!_ You know, what? I think that this is that girl; the one Inuyasha won't tell me anything about even though _he's_ the only who always brings it up! It only makes sense. They obviously know each other from a while ago, in a more than friendly sort of way, and something must've happened that… Jeez, what am I thinking? It's none of my business! But still, it has to be her, doesn't it?

"What do you mean, 'now is not the time'?" Inuyasha is yelling at her viciously, hands drawn into fists like he's ready to lash out at something. She doesn't flinch or even back down a little bit, like I usually do. "I want an explanation, Kikyou! You can't just show up and then deny me that! Come on! After all that, you're just going to leave me in the dark?"

I watch the exchange quietly, unnoticed, like I've stopped existing for a little piece of time or magically become invisible. Being invisible would be nice sometimes, but not now, not here. Between Inuyasha and this girl, Kikyou…I don't think there's a place for me. And for some reason, that bothers me.

Kikyou doesn't answer him, staying her guarded silence. Behind Inuyasha and I, a truck rumbles by and I hear someone yelling, but it's all just background noise to this. And then the opportunity strikes and I seize it, the way Mama has always told me to, and I feel my hand reaching up to tug on Inuyasha's sleeve. Just lightly, coyly, as not to get him any angrier than he already is. His cheeks are flushed with it, or maybe he's just colder than he let on.

"Inuyasha? Tell me what's going on," I whisper-yell, trying to make him listen. I at least want to know a little of it, to try to understand a little what's going on between Inuyasha and this 'Kikyou'. He doesn't seem to hear, or perhaps he's ignoring me again, so I say a little louder, "This is _her_, isn't it, Inuyasha? That girl?"

At this, he seems to snap, turning to me quickly and then pulling away once more. His eyes are ablaze, brighter than I've ever seen them.

"It's none of your business, Kagome! Goddamnit, just go home!"

"But-"

And then Kikyou is looking at me, smiling just a little in an unpleasant way.

"And who is this, Inuyasha?"

"No one important," he grumbles, turning his head away and scuffing at the ground with his sneakers, as if embarrassed. Embarrassed by _me_? I startle at the words. How dare he say something like that! It's one thing to ignore me for her, but this!

"No one important?" I retort to the unresponsive back of his head. "Inuyasha, you jerk!"

It sounds childish as it comes out of my mouth; childish in the presence of this _Kikyou_ who seems so much older and reserved, but I don't think either of them were even listening to me. Again, they're just looking at each other with those looks of anger, hurt and desperation, and talking to each other in words that have hidden meanings only they can see. It's like I'm not even here… But I can't really blame Inuyasha, I guess. I mean, if I was in his place and I was meeting with someone I used to know, I'd be pretty focused on them too, right? It's so stupid though, because I still feel, well… jealous. Left out.

"I guess," Kikyou murmurs, "I should at least tell you that I am okay now, and I'll be living here, so you can find me if you need me… And please, know I don't want any hard feelings between us, but we'll talk about that some other time. I promise."

_She promises._

"Why can't we talk about it _now_?" he shouts, getting desperate now. "Kikyou! Do you still…" His voice gets a little quiet. "I mean, I…"

She turns around quickly, dirtied running shoes scratching against the rough pavement. "As I said, Inuyasha," she says firmly, "some other time."

"Kikyou!" he yells hoarsely after her, but she's already walking away. As she passes the man with the suitcase, she pauses and mumbles something that sounds like "I'm sorry," before disappearing into the building. As soon as she's gone, Inuyasha grunts violently and kicks at the ground, like a child who hasn't gotten his way. Nonetheless, I step gingerly towards him in attempt to calm him down but he just jerks away, irate as ever.

"Damnit, Kagome, just go the fuck away!" he yells and begins to walk off, hands shoved into his pockets and his head dropped low to his chest. The idiot…

For a while, I stare after him, unsure. It's cold; maybe Inuyasha was right and I should just go home, but I want to go after him. I really want to go after him…

He's quite a bit ahead of me, weaving through a thin crowd of people. They're the type of people that Mama would probably tell me not to talk to or even look at, but Mama's not here right now so I head straight through them, bumping shoulders with a few on my way past. I'm not a little girl anymore, and I can go after him if I want to.

I finally catch up to him at a corner where the stoplight has turned red, and he can't go any further for now. I guess he hears my footsteps despite the noise of the crowd because as I come up behind him he hisses, "What did I tell you, Kagome?"

"To go the fuck away," I answer blandly, and he winces, glancing up at the stoplight. Still red. He doesn't apologize.

"I was right, wasn't I?" I say after a pause. "Kikyou is 'that girl'."

"And what's it to you?" Inuyasha barks, glancing defensively over his shoulder. "Huh? Why the Hell d'you wanna know so bad anyways?" An old woman with a paisley shawl over her head gives him a angry look before shuffling away down the sidewalk, the kind teachers in school give you when they catch you running in the halls or talking too loudly.

I shrug, trying not to draw back at his outbursts. "I wanted to know, because… because I…"

Why did I want to know? I don't really know _why_ just that I _do_, and badly. It bugs me that I'm unaware of what's going on, and the reason why Inuyasha doesn't want to tell me about Kikyou, and because… because…

Because Inuyasha worries me. When I know he's sleeping on a bench somewhere or that he's probably hungry, I get worried and nervous and want to see him to make sure he's okay. And because right now, he's upset and even though he's such an _idiot_…

He sighs loudly at my lack of a spoken answer. "Exactly. Just go."

"No," I mumble as I step forwards, my hands squeezing themselves into fists. I can see where snowflakes rest on his hair, the colour difference small.

_Because I worry about him, and I…_

He turns around, looking at me in a tired sort of way. "Kagome, would you just…"

_No. No, no, no I won't! I won't let you go!_

I wondered which of us is more surprised, Inuyasha or me, when I give in to whim, stand up on my tiptoes, and kiss him.

o

It's well after midnight when I wake up Sesshou-maru, jerking his naked shoulder with one hand until his eyes come half-open as he looks at me hazily and squints against the yellowed lamplight that floods over us. He's probably pissed that I'm bothering him this late at night, but he'll just have to deal with it for now.

"What is it, Kagura?" he asks, knocking a few strands of sleep-mussed hair from his face, and then blinking wearily a few times as if his eyes won't stay open properly.

"It's in the house," I tell him anxiously, and he gives me a blank look.

"The house?"

I dig my elbows into the pillow for support. "The house that I grew up in. Whatever Naraku wants from me… I think it has to with the house."

_That_ house; a tall white-brick mini-mansion with an iron gate, a large porch and small windows that shed little light into the rooms inside. It's number 53. I still remember that. I still remember the fourth and fifth steps on the stairs creak loudly when you step on them and just about how far it was from Kanna's white-curtained room to mine. It's the kind of house that looks pleasant enough – somewhat old-fashioned in a classy way, though it's obviously been under recent renovation – but underneath there's just something that makes you not want to stay… That's how it was for me, anyways.

"What makes you think that?" Sesshou-maru asks as he shifts onto his side. One of his hands snakes onto my lower back, and I can feel its warmth even through the thick sheets that cover us. It's a pleasant change from the cold of this apartment, since the furnace for this building is a total bitch. My toes feel like they're frozen and about to fall off!

"I dunno. I just… do," I answer him. "I mean, it's either something in my head that he wants, or he intends to use me for something… But I think it's that I know something. And whenever I try to figure out what it is, I keep coming back to the house…"

_(…footsteps on the stairs, and voices. I'm shaking and it's cold. I'm shaking and it hurts. Coming closer…)_

"Can you figure out what it is exactly?" he asks, paying me quite a bit of attention now.

I shrug quietly. "Not really. A lot of things went on in that house…"

_(I can hear them; hear the floorboards screaming and shaking under each footstep. I cover my mouth with one hand, and the other clenches until it hurts…_

_Closer…)_

He opens his lips a little bit as if to say something, but nothing comes out, and his eyes soon shift down to the mattress. I rest my chin on the heel of my hand, wondering if I should say anything. You know, just to make sure he doesn't just make himself go mental wondering about what I've said. Unfortunately, though, my mind hardly lingers on it before jumping to something else. I'm not sure if I've actually slept or not since we settled down a few hours ago, but my body still desperately wants me to rest. Sighing, I let one arm hang down off the mattress and brush against the mess on the floor. Goddamn, our bedroom is dirty…

I jerk my mind back to where it's supposed to be, gingerly peeling at the scabs formed over the gaping wounds that part of my life left in my memories. I was just a kid then, so I've forgotten a lot of it, and probably a lot of the rest of it I _made_ myself forget, though some things I just can't get rid of. I'm positive that it's something in my head though; something I've hidden or mangled beyond recognition. Naraku wouldn't go to such measures if he just wanted to fuck around with me again. The recollections only come in bits and pieces right now, faded and jagged fragments, but it's enough that I'm sure. It's in that house…

"I've got to go back," I say, always the first one to break the silence.

Sesshou-maru looks up at me, vaguely alarmed. "Back to the house?"

"Where else?"

"Are you sure?" he asks running his hand up my spine gently. "Couldn't it be something else?"

"Could be," I admit. "But I want to go back."

"Kagura…" he says it in such a way that I know he's thinking that I'm just tired and making rash decisions. "Didn't Naraku move out of that house a while ago?"

"Yeah, but I doubt he sold it. I mean, if someone finds something in there that's been left behind – and you know what kind of something I mean – then he's fucked over completely." I laugh dryly at this, though Sesshou-maru just continues staring steadily, displeased, his hand resting between my shoulder blades. The sheets have slipped down a bit so I can feel his skin against mine. Against that scar. I wonder if I feel cold and rough to him; unpolished…

"If you do go," he tells me slowly, as if he's hesitant even to let me get the idea in my head, "you know you won't be going alone."

"Yeah, I know," I say. "I wasn't planning to. I'll call Bankotsu in the morning too, and tell him. Kay?"

He makes a soft noise of agreement (or maybe it's just tolerance) in his throat.

We're quiet again.

Maybe it's just the faint lighting exaggerating things, but he looks more tired than I've ever seen him before. Faint lines under his eyes make him look older than I know he is, darkened by thin crescents of shadow. He looks worried, anxious, like there's too many things on his mind right now. He looks worried about me…

I never knew it would feel this good to have someone care about you.

"You should go back to sleep," he tells me now, glancing up. "It's late."

No shit, Sherlock.

I bring my knees up to my chest and his arm draws us a little closer. My eyes are relieved to close again, and my body puts up no protests as he brings my head to rest against chest. It's blissfully warm, and it's dark…

_(…with only slivers of light leaking through; it was still the type of vague blue morning you get before sunrise, a glowing darkness that completely swallows you. My entire body feels like it was plunged into a fucking bucket of ice, everywhere except for my throat, since the back of it still stings hot with vomit I had to swallow back down, and a place on my arm that feels like it's bleeding out all my warmth. So redly, onto the floor. It's making a little lake, and there are things splashing about in it like it's a fucking party they're having, or a Sabbat._

_Sick._

_You sick fuck…_

_My hands are empty. Why are you even bothering? I'm not going to tell you. I'm not giving you the satisfaction._

_Bastard._

_I'm not even going to try to move. Even as I breathe, it hurts like Hell inside my chest, worse than any time before this. But really, what's another scar? It's nothing I can't take._

_His eyes are peering down at me now. Telling me I deserve it. Perversely enjoying it, but he's not happy, I can tell. Of course, I won't be…_

_He says something, taking a step towards me. That's funny. I can hardly hear it, even though the taste of blood is sharp in my mouth as he leans down over me, his form blocking any light left coming in from the window. He mumbles something, but his mouth is hidden by the tangled shadow that's climbed up his chest has begun to overtake his face, like a thick vine with a mind of it's own. They shoot up from all sides of me now, like they belong to some kind of monster…_

_I'm only half here, and the words he says only half reach my ears, but as he reaches down to me the sensation is amplified. My body jerks of its own accord as he flips me over roughly, my mouth and eyes opening wide no matter how hard I try to keep them closed. I can feel his disgusting fingers prying, their message clear. His fingers trace down my spine, but I can't even move… can't do anything… Oh Gods…!_

_There are still slivers in my fingertips from the closet doors, searing as if a reminder of it all (like I need one), and he's smiling. He's fucking smiling! And that twisted his mouth…_

…_against my ears, are…_

"_Where is it?"_

…_broken, and I can't…_

…_digs into my flesh, that **red**…)_

The next time I'm awake, the clock reads 4 am and my forehead feels damp with sweat. We're covered in the glow of lamplight once more, and Sesshou-maru is holding me, staring at me as I settle into reality. The sound of my heartbeat is fantastically loud as I grasp at the tails of the images fading from my head. The glimpses are familiar, but make no sense, leaving only panic.

It feels like… like Naraku is still in my head, coming after me from there. But he can't be…

I curl up against Sesshou-maru, ignoring the questions he's whispering urgently in my ear. This is going to be a lot more complicated than I first thought, even if I don't want to admit it. But I should have expected it! You'd think I would have remembered…

With Naraku, nothing ever comes easy.

end chapter 18


	19. Dead End

_life in moderation_

Chapter 19: Dead End

As usual, I'm sorry this took so long! But I've got just about everything figured out, and there should only be one more chapter and then an epilogue left to go. Thank you so much for reading, guys!

I disclaim

o

The lights of the city seem washed out and faded, yet still overly bright and piercing against the dark background of buildings and people muddled in together beneath the cloudy winter sky. There are lone, bare-limbed trees scattered about the concrete roadsides, their thin, tangled branches looking skeletal with only a few shrivelled leaves still hanging on. But more common are the piles of garbage; things unwanted. People throw everything away these days, whether it's broken or they just don't want it anymore.

My God, this city is filthier than I remembered…

I shift in my seat, trying to get into a position that's somewhat comfortable but doesn't cut off the circulation to some part of my body. I end up using Sesshou-maru as a pillow whether he likes it or not, since there's not all that much room in this car. In the dull light provided by glowing billboards and headlights as other vehicles pass us by, I can see his lips set firmly, stoic, as he stares out the window despite the severe lack of decent scenery.

We've been driving for almost four goddamn hours now, but as Bankotsu said, we'd rather not take the train and end up arrested for carrying weapons that have been 'well concealed' in suspicious-looking black duffel bags. Now, I'd feel a lot safer on a train as opposed to with Bankotsu driving ("Oh come on, nobody _actually_ drives by the speed limit.") but it's not an option, and instead I'm squished between Sesshou-maru and Renkotsu in the backseat of this ugly rental car while Jakotsu and Bankotsu get the front.

Irritated and sore, I sigh. No one's spoken a word this entire time, and the lack of a working radio – it only seems to receive one station, which plays country music non-stop – has left us in a little bit of an uneasy silence. I tried sleeping for a while, but it was no wonder that I couldn't.

We're going to finish Naraku.

Well, I'm not actually getting a chance to have my way with him. Sesshou-maru's not letting me get anywhere near there. But at least I got the satisfaction of having him admit that I was right after all: whatever Naraku wants from me has to do with that house.

It's been about a week since the morning I called Bankotsu, just to tell him my thoughts on the things Sesshou-maru and I had discussed the night before. He asked where it was, and then there was a pause after I told him, soon interrupted by laughter.

"What are you laughing at?" I had asked, able to hear Jakotsu in the background as he inquired sleepily about what was 'so fucking funny' with the same amount of confusion as me.

"You're kidding, right?" he choked out, trying to get himself under control. "That's the address?"

"Yeah, that's the address. What's the problem?"

He laughs a little more, grinning audibly.

"Well, you might not believe me, but… well, Naraku's impatient and now he wants us to finish this job by next week. And that is the exact address he gave us as to where to meet him with you."

Mind you, this wasn't one of those times when proving yourself right felt like a victory. Not at all. It felt bitter, spoilt. Hollow.

"Turn right here," I tell Bankotsu as he slows at the glaringly red traffic light. My voice and throat feel a little sore from not being used, and I swallow, trying to rid my mouth of its dryness. Am I shaking? I don't think so, but I tell my muscles to still anyways. The rows upon rows of expensive gingerbread houses look painfully familiar, coming in overload. Am I ready for this? It doesn't matter, I don't have a choice.

I continue to give directions as we get nearer and nearer, cruising through a falsely clean looking part of the city. The houses are large, and the one that I used to belong to stands tall and proud at the end of a dead end street, a little far off from the other houses with a few trees obscuring it. Sesshou-maru's hand brushes my arm. I guess I was shaking. Doesn't matter, little things don't matter right now. Just seeing the house… it's painful, and it makes me want to vomit. But _it doesn't matter_.

There's no turning back now.

o

She kissed me.

Kagome fucking kissed me.

I curse loudly, kicking at a half-empty bottle abandoned on the sidewalk. It's been all I've been able to think about since she did it, and it won't get the Hell out of my head! It just _bothers_ me! I mean, first Kikyou shows up and then Kagome… she didn't even tell me why, you know! She just sorta looked at me, like she was afraid of me, and then said she was sorry and ran off.

Stupid girl.

I'm not sure whether she's been avoiding me, or it's just by sheer luck that we've managed to avoid each other since then. Not having to deal with it is good, but in the same way it's not. I mean, if I see her again things will be awkward and just weird; I don't know what I'd say to her. I mean, _she kissed me_. But on the other hand, _she kissed me_. That's a good thing, right? Fuck, I'm getting nowhere with this.

It's cold again today, but not as cold as it's been the past few weeks. I zip up my coat a little higher anyways as I sit down on one of the park benches, wishing for spring to come early this year. I've got enough to think about these days, and really don't need the aggravation that comes with freezing your ass off daily too. Even the pigeons hanging out in front of me, as if they think I've got something to spare for them, are just pissing me off. _I'm_ pissing me off. I can't make up my fucking mind…

"May I sit down?"

I look up, a little bit startled and a little bit bitter, not having expected Kikyou, of all people, to be standing in front me right now. She stares, almost mockingly unemotional, as we both wait for my damn mouth to start working.

"Sit if you want," I say, the words coming out harsher than I had meant. "I don't care."

It figures that Kikyou is still Kikyou and she knows how to translate what I wanted to say from what actually comes out. She sits down, tucking a dark piece of short hair behind her ear and wiping a bit of dirt from her coat, a long red vintage-type thing. Kagome has one like it, only hers looks crisp and new while Kikyou's looks more worn. Silly girls and their trends.

"Are you hungry?" she asks, and I snort.

"I'm fine."

"I have enough money for dinner, if you want it," she tries insisting. It's late, yeah, but most places around here stay open 24/7, and she knows that.

"I said, I'm fine," I grumble. "Don't need your charity."

If it were Kagome asking, she would've dragged me to the nearest fast-food place despite what I said, and badgered me until I ate what she bought for me. But Kikyou just settles back against the bench, crossing her ankles. She's unsatisfied, but not bothering to push the issue.

"I think," she says quietly, and I'm worried suddenly that I've upset her without meaning too. Way to go, Inuyasha…

She looks up at me again, making sure I'm listening, and I understand. "I think that this is a good time to talk."

o

The engine settles down into a soft lull to match the rest of the slumbering neighbourhood, and for a moment, all five of us just sit here in the car. It's Renkotsu who moves first, muttering "Might as well get this over with," to himself as he grabs the duffel bag at his feet and swings open his door. Jakotsu and Bankotsu follow suite. Sesshou-maru and I are the last out, leaning against each other for support (and comfort, all that stuff) as our muscles slowly release from their cramped positions.

And there it is.

We're parked a short walk from the house, hidden in a small grove of trees on the side of the road, but it's close enough. The small windows are dark, glaring out at the street. Oh yes, everything is almost exactly how it used to be. The gate, the white bricks; like a small castle, almost, or at least that's what I thought of it when I was just a kid.

Before I have much of a chance to react to the sight of it, Bankotsu is shoving a pistol into my hand.

"Naraku isn't _supposed_ to meet us until tomorrow night," he says, "but there's always a chance he is there, or someone else. Only shoot if you have to. It's on safety, just in case your finger slips or something."

He hands one to Sesshou-maru, who apathetically accepts it. I could open my big mouth and make some comment right now, but there's really no point in stalling for time. Besides, we're just going inside to look around right now, to see if I can figure anything out (and Jakotsu mentioned something about getting a little familiar with the area for tomorrow). It's risky, and Sesshou-maru still looks pissed I convinced him to let me do this, but it's one of those things that has to be done.

You can only keep running for so long, right?

Step by step by step, part of me is still trying to bribe the rest of me out of this as we draw closer and closer, and closer. I'm afraid. Hell, who wouldn't be afraid? Whatever I'm going to find in there, if anything, isn't going to be the greatest thing since sliced bread. It might hurt; I mean, there's a reason I can't remember it. But it's kill or be killed. I've got to do this. And I'm strong enough, I'm sure of it.

"Which door?" Bankotsu asks, and behind me, Jakotsu shrugs.

"Front. We might as well be polite."

As Jakotsu quickly picks the lock, I lapse once more into self-consuming thought. The door's been replaced since I was last here, I notice, with something made of dark wood and without a window. It just feels so weird to be standing here again, on this porch. The same porch I sat on as a kid. I didn't use it much after I reached the age of thirteen, as it was much more practical just to sneak out the back. If you walk far enough through the trees behind the house, you reach another road with a bus-shelter nearby, or you can just walk downtown. It's not as far as it seems.

The door swings open, and Jakotsu smirks triumphantly at Renkotsu before they head inside. Sesshou-maru squeezes my hand, giving me an apprehensive look.

"Ready?"

I swallow. I nod. And he leads me through.

It's impossible to describe what being back here feels like. The darkness diluted by light from the windows; the one in the kitchen is broken, shards of glass glinting, eliciting a nauseous shiver from within the churning pit of my stomach. I can see the vague outlines of doorways and sparsely placed furniture, and with the sight – overwhelmingly real and clear – comes the hazy memories. At first, the flow is light as it trickles down into my mind's eye, but as I move a bit further in a deluge begins, heavy and pounding on my skull. I wince, but try not to block them out. This is what I need, isn't it? I need to look through them, one by one as they come back, and try to find that particular instance stored in my brain that he wants…

It feels weird, and strange. I really don't like this, how the familiar feelings of paranoia – of being trapped and vehement resentment – begin blooming inside of me, cluttering my head. Perhaps I should've expected Naraku to pull this sort of bullshit though.

_("You can't run away from things, no… to really get rid of them, you have to kill them. Else they'll keep coming back, Kagura. Don't you know that?")_

Damnit, I can't let it get to me! That's what he wants, _exactly_ what he wants!

Bankotsu whistles quietly, looking up the tall staircase near the door.

"Shit. Nice place," he mutters. And then to me: "Where to?"

I shrug, barely able to form a semi-intelligent response beneath all the damn clutter in my head. Kitchen to my left, dining room ahead, closet to the right and the large staircase just beside that, leading upstairs…

"Wherever," I say.

Sesshou-maru interjects. "We might as well just do the first floor to start."

"There a basement?" Renkotsu asks, regardless.

"Yeah, but it's just storage," I tell him. "Or at least that's all there was down there last time I was here…"

But a lot has changed since then.

We stay together for now, heading on into the dining room. Floorboards creak beneath my feet, complaining about our presence here. I don't feel like an intruder, but I don't feel at home either, or at least I don't want to. A lot of the furniture has been removed, making this room feel even bigger and emptier than before. I can hear my heart pounding in my ears, screaming at me, a little louder as we go in a bit further and the memories get heavier. There's anxiety and fear, franticly beating against the walls of my chest, and an uneasiness muttering 'Shouldn't be here, shouldn't be here, shouldn't have come back here…' over, and over. But I continue, ignoring it. He's not beating me now.

I remember sitting politely and biting my tongue, biting down _hard_ while we were forced to sit through yet another dinner with some of Naraku's client. Kanna's shoes left blisters on her feet because they were too small, but she never said anything. I remember other nights, exploding on him in this room and screaming until he'd quiet me, the click of the locks on the doors… and against the floorboards…

_Against these floorboards…_

Why can't I get it out? Why won't it come to me?

The images in my mind flee from my mind as a soft clicking – vibrant in the silence – announces the loading of a gun. Sesshou-maru moves quickly in front me with one hand on his pistol. My heart is tripping over itself in its rush now, and I glance around, cursing myself for letting myself slip away there.

"Don't you dare fucking move." I hear Jakotsu's voice, almost purring the words. Looking around Sesshou-maru, I see Renkotsu, facing a closed door, and behind him Jakotsu. The barrel of his gun is pressed to the back of Renkotsu's head, almost casually, and next to me, Bankotsu curses under his breath. I command my body not to move, begging my muscles to be still. I don't need another fucking thing to add to what I'm trying to work out in my head, anything I had gathered scattering as my confusion swells. What the Hell is going on now?

From the angle I'm on, I can see the far corner of Renkotsu's mouth rise, as if in a smirk.

"So," Jakotsu says then, his eyes glues to the hands that hang, both occupied with weapons, at Renkotsu's sides. "I guess we'll start with how much he paid you."

o

It's kinda funny that when Kikyou says we should talk, I can't really think of anything to say to her. I've got a lot to say, but none of it wants to come out.

"Kikyou… it's been a while, and… well, obviously you're alright now. I was… you never told me what was going on, and so I didn't know…" I start, going nowhere. What the Hell am I trying to say, and what's the right way to say it? Maybe I should just tell her that I missed her, but then again, maybe she didn't miss me. Or what if she's just come here to tell me she doesn't want to ever see me again? Jeez, than I'd have two girls avoiding me…

Kikyou stays silent and stone-faced, listening to my stuttering and stumbled words, even though it's obvious they make no sense at all.

"I thought you'd like to know," she mumbles, a while after my stupid attempts at speech stop (thankfully), "that you were right."

"I was what?"

"Onigumo," she says. "That man that you were angry with me for seeing when he was in the hospital… well, he didn't hurt me, but a different man who knew him did."

Then the overdose… and all of that…

"I guess," Kikyou tells me, "I felt I had to let you know that. That it was my mistake."

And now there are no words at all coming from my goddamned mouth, even though now I think there's more I should be saying than ever. Yeah, life is just real _funny_ like that. So we just keep sitting here, and I've probably got the most ridiculous expression on my face. It should feel good that I was right, but you know, it really doesn't, and the reason why is obvious. She should've been right. She was always right all the times before that. Stupid fluke. Stupid fucking fluke.

"But I'm back now." She says this with a smile. Her smiles are always so… so strange, and complicated. "And things are okay now."

Are as okay as they can get, I guess.

"So…"

This is probably my cue to say something and the look Kikyou is giving me confirms it. She turns her body, leaning in a little closer to me, like she's thinking about kissing me. Like Kagome kissed me. Kagome kissed different than Kikyou kissed me before; Kikyou was always soft but strong, while Kagome was just… Kagome was a sudden burst of something, young and surprisingly gutsy. I'll be honest, I hadn't expected Kagome to be that gutsy. I hadn't expected it to affect me like this. Damnit, I should be thinking about how to answer Kikyou, not about Kagome…

Man, Kikyou must really think I'm retarded by now, because I've been quiet so long she just starts talking again, and Kikyou was never the type to do a lot of talking.

"It's true what you said before too… a lot of time has passed since we've last seen each other, Inuyasha. And…"

"And what?" I snap suddenly, trying to get all my frustration out in the words that come easily now, fuelled by anger. "Yeah, it's been a long time, but it's not like too much has changed for it to matter, right? You're still you and I'm still me, it's all the same. Sure, we ended all messed up but we can start again or whatever."

Kikyou leans back to where she was as I stop speaking, retracting a little, not in a frightened way and not a cautious one, but there's definitely purpose in every little thing she does. Of course, she's probably thought of all that already.

"Can't we?" she asks, all tragic in her words and face.

But that's just it, isn't it? Even if we try and ignore it, there's still a lot of time that's passed and treated us differently, and there's no way we're the same people we were before. It just doesn't work like that, and it's never simple or fair. Sure, we've got good memories, but that doesn't mean there's any more for us. Our luck might just be all used up by now.

So what do we do now?

"If you want me, Inuyasha," she says quietly as she stands, "I am still here for you. And part of me will remain that way forever, even if the rest of me hates you – which I don't." She adds the end words on a little too quickly, frowning at them as the collide with the air between us, that both of us are breathing just the same.

"But as much as I hate it… perhaps it would be better to just be friends. Besides, you've got that… other girl."

"Kagome," I say quickly.

"Yes." She nods.

"But I don't want to…"

_Goddamn words coming out faster than I can think to stop them!_

"…to lose you," I finish. Kikyou nods again, looking at across the park at all the people, and the lights of the city flickering from the tops of dirty boxes called buildings where people live, eat, sleep and slave away at their jobs every fucking day. We're in stuck stalemate, sitting here in the middle of this big city filled with millions of people, and hardly any of them know us, or care. At the same time it's tiny, and really, hugely big. Too big. I don't want to think about this anymore.

I feel Kikyou's hand slip over mine, but you know… the warmth doesn't feel the same.

o

"What are you talking about?" Renkotsu asks calmly, almost amused as he dares a glance back at Jakotsu. It almost scares me how confident Jakotsu looks as he presses the gun a little harder into the back of Renkotsu's shaven head, seeming all too comfortable with what he's doing.

"You know," he says. "How much did Naraku pay you to tell you what we were doing? Or are you receiving some other type of reward for you _services_?" The last word comes out like a hiss.

Again, Renkotsu decided to play dumb.

"I really don't know what you're-"

"Do you want to tell us, or shall I just shoot you straight through?"

"Oh come on now," Renkotsu says, pretending to chide him. "That would be no fun at all."

I'm frozen completely while I listen to their exchange, cursing inwardly as pieces fall into place. Renkotsu… really _was_ in league with Naraku this whole time? And Naraku… then he must know that we're here, right now! Shit, what if he's here! What if this is all just a trap, and he's caught us!

Sesshou-maru's arm finds a firm grip on my shoulder. My panic must be obvious, but there's frustration leaking through his stoic expression as well.

"Besides," Renkotsu says, "our faces have all been caught on security cameras, and as soon as he likes, Naraku can call the cops on us for intruding. And with all these weapons…"

Bankotsu cuts in. "You realize you'd be caught too, don't you? And it wouldn't make sense; we would we break into an abandoned house."

Renkotsu looks as if he planned to shake his head, but doesn't. "You heard the stories, didn't you? All the connections Naraku has? He'll get me out easy. I mean, I was just an unwilling accomplice who was _forced_ to show a bunch of gang members where Naraku was hiding out."

"Fuck," Bankotsu mutters, eyes narrowing drastically. "We got too cocky…"

Security cameras… Naraku could be watching us right now… watching me…

"Bankotsu," says Jakotsu, his body still turned away from us, "I'll take care of him."

"What?"

"I told you, I only agreed to this if I got to have fun. And here's my fun. Take those two and go on; you can't stay with me and let them go alone. They'd die." He says it so simply it's hard to believe. But Bankotsu stays in place a few more seconds, contemplating, though it's obvious by this time there's not any other options. We've been backed into a corner. Fuck. As much as I shouldn't think it and though I really shouldn't make anything worse for myself, it would've just been so much easier if I had allowed them to take me. That way, they wouldn't be risking their lives stupidly for me, and Sesshou-maru would be at home, safe. I'm not worth the risk. But I can't take it back… I can't change things now.

"Alright." Bankotsu's voice is low but accepting in tone. "I guess I'll see you on our way out then."

"See you."

There was no sweet parting kiss, no 'promise me', no good-bye or even an 'I love you' as they part, even though it might be the last time they see each other alive in this lifetime. It makes sense, though, since these two have probably been through so many life or death situations it would feel silly to make a big deal out of it now. Still, I can feel between them, and the quiet understanding of each other.

I want to say thank you, for whatever reason, but Bankotsu is already ushering us hastily out of the room and Sesshou-maru makes me keep pace by tightening his hold. We're out into the hall now, heading toward the back rooms. In my last glance backwards at them, I see that Renkotsu is quickly swinging around in attempt to kick Jakotsu in the stomach while Jakotsu slips a knife out of his belt. I don't see which one lands the first blow, and realize then I don't want to know.

_(…blood staining the floorboards… my eyes won't close…)_

Footstep by footstep once again, we're making our way down the hall. I hate knowing that Naraku is mostly likely somewhere in this house, and yet I really have no way of finding where he is besides blindly searching and guessing. And I bet he knew that would get to me too… _Bastard._

We can still hear noises of Jakotsu and Renkotsu's fight through the walls; there's footsteps, shuffling, and once a darkly playful taunt from Jakotsu. No gunshots. Bankotsu's lips remain in a tight line, but he somehow remains focused as we search. The well of memories that's opened up seems to stopped flowing so heavily now, coming just in glimpses, harsh nonetheless. I expected it to come by now, but still, I've got nothing that can really help me. Sure, I saw Naraku kill lots of people, but it's not that…

"The asshole got the cameras installed well," Bankotsu mutters. "I can't find any of them at all…"

Sesshou-maru frowns at this. "Should we just leave, then?"

"No," Bankotsu replies shortly. "We've got to finish the job. And hopefully we can find and destroy the tapes, and get out of here unscathed, but that's just best case scenario."

"Well, he's not down here anywhere," I say. "Should we just go upstairs?"

"That won't be necessary."

Again, I find myself frozen, but this time it's far worse and far more painful. It's too precise, too sharp to be a piece of memory slipping in. The intonation is exact and clear, resonating against the walls of this nearly empty room. I can feel Sesshou-maru's fingers digging into my skin, almost so tightly that it hurts, but that really isn't my main concern at all right now.

I look to my right, to the doorway we had just come through from the hallway, and there he is.

Naraku.

Bankotsu's already got two large guns pointed at him, so he stays still, calm. Even though it's been years since I've seen his face, it's the exact same, save a few wrinkles driven deeper by age and a scar now cutting across his right cheek. It looks nasty, painful. I'd have to say it suits him. But he's still the same; long black curls that look greasy in certain lights, pale skin, smug posture and a smirk plastered on his face. It's _sickening_, and I'm almost overcome with the urge to scream, to hurt him in any way possible. I could kill him now, if I got the chance… couldn't I?

His eyes are focused on me, taking in my appearance and delighting in my expression. He shifts his weight a little bit, causing a floorboard to creak loudly. I flinch.

"Welcome home, Kagura."

end chapter 19


	20. Shattering

_life in moderation_

chapter 20: shattering

AN: I apologize if this is not up to par, and for the immense amount of time it took to be finished. Thank you to everyone who read, and those who helped out as well. The novel 'Everybody Smokes in Hell' by John Ridley, "The Promised Land" from the FF VII: AC soundtrack, and (once again) Tegan and Sara helped me through this chapter. It's been an experience, that's for sure. Love to you all.

- Ebony

Disclaimed.

o

"Welcome home, Kagura."

Naraku's voice sends a revolting shock through my entire body, almost like an electric pulse (or a shot of venom), striking hard and working fast. The sound of him is a little strange to me, actually. I guess I've been away from him for so long, with only repressed memories as a reminder, that I've forgotten a little what it's like when he's right here in front of me, grinning smugly. Far too real.

It's all I can do just to keep myself standing.

"Don't move!" yells Bankotsu, his gun pointed at Naraku. Though that seems to be Bankotsu's reactions to most situations, at least it's a helpful one this time; just the fact that Naraku is here – _right fucking here_ – has prevented me from doing much of anything. I bite my tongue a little, trying to push back the reaction I'm still pissed he managed to elicit from me.

"Nice to see you too, Bankotsu," says Naraku snidely, appearing unfazed. "But please, put your toys away."

"What do you want?" I snap, trying to hide my indecision behind gritted teeth. The bastard; even now, he looks so confident, so damn sure of himself.

"My dear," he says. "Shouldn't I be asking you that question? _You_ were the ones who did a little bit of breaking and entering this evening. Now, if you two don't mind," he glances from Bankotsu to Sesshou-maru, "I'd like to have a little chat with my daughter."

"I'm not–!" But under his gaze, the words shrivel and die in my throat. I want to vomit desperately, to try and get this weakness out of me, and _it's like I'm thirteen years old all over again._

He raises an eyebrow but says nothing. Meanwhile, three men have entered the room from behind Naraku, all of them finely muscled and clothed in black with stoic expressions on their forgettable faces – nothing but human weapons, and probably good ones at that. Damnit! We should've known he'd have something like this ready for us… it's too late now, though, we'll just have to deal with it.

As I think this, the reality of the situation sinks in. Deal with it? I've been dealing with it for a long time, but this is more than dealing with it. I could die – no more second chances after that. We could all fucking die in here! I should never have let Sesshou-maru come along. I should have faced Naraku myself, finished this myself… I thought I was ready for this, but maybe I was wrong. And what if I am, what sort of mess have I gotten myself in this time?

The cold touch of Naraku's fingers on my shoulder jolts me unpleasantly back into the middle of things. No time for "should have" now, I've got to keep alert.

"If you'll excuse us…" he says, pulling me forwards into the hall. And step by step, I follow him, unable to do anything else. This is how it should be. I've still got a gun tucked into the waistband of my pants, hidden enough by my hoodie that he might not notice. I'll let myself be led away and when I have the chance, I'll shoot – I'll actually shoot this time! It can be that simple. I'm strong enough now (_right?)_, I can–

"Stop."

To my surprise, Naraku actually listens and turns to look over his shoulder nonchalantly at Sesshou-maru, who's got his gun in hand and a fierce glare. One of the men in black looks at Naraku with a tilt of his head, and it's obvious what he's asking permission to do. My heart rate doubles, and those thoughts starting with "should have" start rushing back in, weighing me down, cluttering my head until it's hard to think. Damn Sesshou-maru, he can be even more stubborn than I am about things!

"Or you'll shoot me?" Naraku asks, amused. "Very funny. Shoot me, and those three will kill you on the spot, in whatever way they feel is best. This neighbourhood is infested with criminals, so they can make you scream as loud as they want and no one will care. But you know…" His hand slides upwards so his fingers can caress my neck. It makes me dizzy – it makes me want to kill him right here and now, erase him, get him _away from me_ – but I manage to maintain enough sense to shift a little ways out of his grasp.

"I don't think Kagura would mind an audience. All right. You can come along. But you have to walk ahead of us, and you'll leave your weapon behind."

Sesshou-maru – that stupid, stubborn asshole – holds his ground.

"You don't seem to realize," Naraku hisses at him, "that you are at a great disadvantage here. If you are coming, put down your gun and get in front."

Bankotsu steps forward, leaning in to talk to Sesshou-maru. "Look, you can go – it might better if you go. I can handle this."

"You sure?" He doesn't really say it as a question, though.

"I used to kill people for a living," Bankotsu answers all too casually as he takes the gun from Sesshou-maru's hand. "Yes, I'm sure. Just don't do anything stupid – I'll follow you once I'm done here."

Sesshou-maru turns to me next – we meet eyes and it's a bit painful. I want to tell him just how much I think he's out of his fucking mind right now but he's already broken contact and begun heading out into the hall, brushing past Naraku fearlessly. I guess he's got too big of an ego to be afraid. He keeps glancing back at us as we walk – I just focus on keeping my breathing steady, step after step, we'll get there and we'll get through.

"Up the staircase, and then to your right," Naraku tells us calmly, his tone not matching the situation at all.

Usually, this is the time in movies where the heroes reveal the secret plan they've had up their sleeves all along, or they start praying to God (like they'd have time), and love saves the day. There's a happy ending, and the credits roll. But we already established quite a while ago how I feel about real life and movies, didn't we?

o

I'm stuck. I can't figure it out. I've been sitting here on this bench for God knows how long, trying to make a friggin' decision, but I still can't. And it's really simple, too. Essentially, I just have to pick Kikyou or Kagome. Well, I don't really _need_ to make the choice, but if I don't, things will get messy, and trust me, I want as little mess as possible when it comes to girls.

Feh. I know I'm being a coward. I'm just being so goddamn indecisive because I'm afraid of making the wrong choice, and regretting it; of making an even bigger mess than before, if that's possible. But I'll regret it even more if I don't make the choice, I know that.

Maybe it's not even my choice to make. Maybe Kikyou made the choice for me when she left however long ago, her hand leaving my shoulder. She didn't look back – I watched her until a crowd swallowed her up and she was gone. She was still Kikyou, of course, but she wasn't the same… I mean, she was the same in some ways, but she's different too. _I'm_ different!

Besides, she seems to be doing okay without me. And I think I was doing okay without her for a while too. I usually hate relying on people, but it's nice sometimes, I guess, when you have someone you can fall back on.

"If you want to see me," Kikyou had said, "just come by the clinic sometime, okay?"

I guess like it or not, the past is still gone. Things won't be "just like old times", because they've passed us by. We can't worry about that, we've got to deal with what we've got on our plates now. Get too wrapped up in the past and you just end up dragging yourself down further and further, until your head won't stay on straight. I don't want to let it go, but…

But now I'm standing in front of Kagome's house, cold and tired and hoping I'm not screwing myself over. She pointed it out to me once when we walked by; I'm a bit surprised I remembered right where it was, though. The house is all dark and quiet, save one window on the side that's got a lamp on or something. From below, I can see that the walls are pink, so it's probably Kagome's room. _It _better_ be Kagome's room_, I think as I scoop up a bit of gravel from the ground and chuck it at her window. It's cliché, whatever, but how else are you going to get someone's attention when they're behind rectangles of glass?

Two handfuls of rocks later, Kagome appears at the window, peering out at me before pushing it open.

"What the Hell are you doing, Inuyasha?" she hisses. Her voice echoes on in the emptiness night brought to her yard.

"Oi, can you let me in?" I yell up to her. "It's really frickin' cold and I don't have anywhere to sleep!" Which is true, you know.

"What--- Do you have any idea how--- God, I'll be down in a second." She swings her window shut and then disappears. I hurry around to the front door, and try urging my stomach to dislodge itself from my throat. I don't know why I'm worried she's angry at me. I mean, she was the one who kissed me and ran off… stupid girl…

The front door swings open and Kagome leans out – her pyjama pants are baggy and long enough to cover her feet, making her look kinda like a little kid.

"Hurry up," she says. "You can come inside, but you have to be quiet because everyone's asleep right now! I was awake because I was reading, so you're lucky… Oh, Mama's gonna be mad when she finds out."

I don't hesitate to enter, eagerly stepping into the warmth of her house; it's nice not to be freezing your ass off once in a while, you know? She waits as I kick off my shoes, and then hands me a pair of slippers without looking at me at all. We've gone real quiet but it's an okay quiet, and I can hear the wind scraping against the outside of the house. My stomach feels like it's gone back down to where it belongs again.

"Let's go," she whispers, looking at the ground as she leads me over to the staircase. "I hope you don't mind sleeping on the floor, because a sleeping bag's all I got – and don't even _think_ about getting into my bed. Pervert."

"Hey, you mentioned it, not me," I grumble.

She wrinkles her nose and lets out a little 'hmph!', but her lips are twitching, like she's trying to push down a smile. I mean, she can't really be that mad at me like she's acting she is – she did let me in here, after all.

Yeah. I guess it's nice, sometimes, to have someone you can trust like this…

o

Step after step after step. Footsteps over wooden floorboards that whine beneath our weight; I try to focus on that sound so I can't hear _his_ breathing, too damn near to me for comfort.

Like it was when I first entered, only stronger now, more insistent, memories are unravelling from the tight bind I kept them in. Closing my eyes would be just plain stupid, so I just have to let the sight of this place do its work on my mind. Image after image, darting across my vision…

…_I was dragged down these stairs, these stairs, hands clamped over my wrists, pressing, throbbing, throat too tight to…_

As the recollections open up, they get a little familiar, though I still can't figure it out, even though I want to now! It hurts more to know only little bits and pieces, painful fragments digging into my mind. Naraku did something to me. It makes me sick wondering what with him right next to me, nudging me a little when my footsteps slow.

Just keep breathing.

…_thrown onto the floor, voices, his voice…_

Keep walking.

"_I don't know! I don't know!"_

_I'm not lying, I swear, I'm sorry, don't…_

Keep a straight face – it's not getting to you.

…_bones creaking. Blood, this is my blood…_

I look up, surprised to see that the door to my room is already in front of me. Even after all this time, there's still the 'FUCK OFF' I carved in the wood at about eye-height in place of a 'Please Knock' sign, and I almost laugh. Naraku's such a damn perfectionist, I thought he would've had that removed by now and put in a new door. Real, tangible things are easy to get rid of most of the time. It's the uncertain ones – the ones only in your head – that get difficult.

"Go on," Naraku says to Sesshou-maru. "Gentlemen first."

Still too valiant for his own good, Sesshou-maru reaches down to the doorknob and twists, letting the door swing all the way open before stepping inside. Light pours into the hallway from a lamp set up on the dresser inside and I have to squint to see, as my eyes aren't used to the brightness. Half of me is illuminated, a dull glow covering the front of my arms and legs. My body is refusing to move and my head it siding with it. An ache is swelling in my temples at just the thought of in there.

"Inside."

Come on, legs, move!

I force myself to stumble inside – Naraku doesn't pretend to hide his smirk as he glides in after me.

"Take a seat," he says, motioning to the bed that used to be mine. Funny, just about everything looks like it was when I ran off. Or at least I think it does. My bed is still half-made, a shirt I couldn't fit in my bag when I left hanging out of one drawer, a day calendar for that year sitting abandoned. Sesshou-maru and I meet eyes again, making urgent, split second conversation through glances.

"We'll stand," he answers coldly.

"Suit yourself then," says Naraku. "But enough pleasantries – let's discuss what we're all here for. Do you remember yet, Kagura?"

There's still not enough memory here for me to put anything solid together. I was hurt, I know that much – fuckers beat me up pretty bad, worse I've ever had it, I think. They were – or maybe it was just him, was he… looking for something? Tremors possess me. It feels so strange to be standing on the edge of it, I know, I'm nearly, damnit _nearly_ there but can't quite…

"Remember what?" My voice shakes, and Naraku just looks amused. Wrong answer?

"Now Kagura, if you're trying to play games with me, then that's a very bad idea. But if you genuinely can't remember, we're going to have to solve that problem quickly, aren't we?"

There's an edge on his words that causes Sesshou-maru (you know, I think he kind of likes playing knight for me) to step over, a protective hand resting on my arm.

"You're not going to touch her again," he threatens. I wish he hadn't put his hand on me though, it just makes me dizzier, that flesh, too valid…

Naraku ignores him, turning to push the door closed instead. A thought strikes me – while his back was turned, in those few seconds, could I have pulled the gun from his hiding place and shot him? Maybe. But my arms stay limp and he's turned back around already. Chance passed. Next time? He's sure fucking cocky.

_It's like I'm thirteen years old all over again_.

"We could extend this," Naraku is saying, "but I'm really not in the mood anymore. You either have what I'm looking for or you don't, in which this is a waste of time and an inappropriate circumstance for a reunion, though it has been somewhat pleasant."

Smirk.

"Now, Kagura, you either know where the Shikon Jewel is, or you don't. Which is it?"

My lungs are half-filled with air, Sesshou-maru hand is still holding me steady, flesh against flesh (reassurance), and I'm losing hold, teetering, slipping. Over the edge. Thoughts blur. Memory surges forwards, now unlocked from where ever I'd been hiding it and making itself at home in my mind's eye.

The Shikon Jewel…

Three seconds pass, and reality shatters.

_Plunge!_

Through half-closed eyes, I can still see my knees, lamplight skidding across the bedroom floor, but at the same time, it's transforming into a different place entirely. I can feel myself in that younger, not-so-blemished body, lively yet bitter as I hop from the bed and walk out into the hall on silent feet, sneaking down to the staircase. I've done this before, I know where to step, I know what pace to take myself at. Reckless, foolish, and knowing it. _What do I have to loose?_ the years-old thought echoes in my head.

No, no, no… don't go down there…

But she doesn't (I didn't) listen to me, continuing down to kitchen door, open a few inches, just enough to let the voices leak out clearly. I don't need to listen, though, the knowledge of what they'll say is already in me.

It's strange. I'm watching her, but I am her, but I can't stop her. It already happened. I was here, and I survived – I guess that should console me a little, but I feel just as nauseous. Stupid girl, you _stupid girl_, just like he always used to say, and no, no, no, this isn't what I'm thinking! I'm not something he made, I'm me, I'm Kagura! And I don't belong to him!

His slick voice: "Well, dinner certainly was delicious. But now, onto business…"

"Yes, about that."

There was always something alarmingly exciting about listening in on Naraku's after-dinner conversation with his clients. _What did he do with this one?_ she wonders (I wondered). _A bit of poison, so he can take whatever is on them and then get someone to dispose of the body? Or will the deal go smoothly? Maybe he's got men in the wings, to torture him until he gives in. Who knows with this fucker…_

The other voice sounds rough and young. "I was wondering if you could convince me again of the sale. There have been some other offers, you know."

Pause.

"Are you having doubts?" Naraku asks quietly.

"Not doubts. I just don't want to get ripped off, that's all." Dry laughter. "Turns out this thing is a _lot_ more valuable than I thought it was."

"And what are planning to do after you sell? I'm sure the people you stole this from aren't too happy."

"It's none of your business," the young voice snaps. "I'm not stupid, stop treating me like it. I'm getting out of here, what else? Get a new identity, in another country. I've got enough money to last me for a long while. Doesn't matter what happens, I win! Now convince me I should–"

And here he starts to cough.

"C-convince me that I should… I should let…"

There's a crash, a chair toppling over onto the floor tiles and his body landing afterwards. Muffled cries of pain. _Looks like it was poison_. She is (I was) disgusted, as usual, at all of it.

"You bastard! What… what did you put in the food?"

Naraku stays quiet. It's no use answering a dead man. Right now, he'll be taking a drink of the poison's antidote he had in his pocket the entire meal, watching blood drip from the other man's mouth.

"See this here?" he teases. "This will neutralize the poison. You've got about five minutes to give me the jewel – after that it will be too late. It's simple, you see. You give it to me, and I give you what you need to live. You're young, and could have a long life ahead of you. It was a mistake to get mixed up in affairs such as this. Give me the Shikon Jewel and I'll straighten it all out."

"Fuck…"

A gun goes off loudly, leaving her (my) ears ringing. The side-door of the kitchen can be heard opening, then slamming shut. Screams, a few more shots, the sounds of a struggle. Nothing she (I) haven't heard before, but it still managed to leave a chill. Curiosity killed the cat. Going back upstairs would be a good idea right now, a very good idea. However, as she gets (I got) to my feet beneath the noise of the fight inside, something glints, rolling through the small opening in the doorway and into the hall.

This…

Heartbeat thudding in her (my) temple, she lunges forwards to snatch it up. Her (my) fingers feel sticky as she hides it in her fist. Blood, no doubt. The excitement of the moment is still races. She (I) really should not be doing this, and that pushes her (me) forwards, up to the staircase, quietly. The jewel is cool against her (my) palm, and perfectly round. The blood makes it a little slippery, but she holds on (I hold on, so tightly).

"Where the fuck did it go? It was here, I saw it, that cretin had it!"

"Relax," says one of the men who rushed in. Naraku probably had them waiting outside during the entire meal, just in case. "He's dead _now_, it's not going to go anywhere. I mean, it probably rolled out through the door."

Shit. Panic seizes me, sucks me into the moment until I can't tell where I start and she begins. I speed up my footsteps and my pulse follows along.

"We'll go check," Naraku says icily.

Shit shit shit. I manage to reach the top of the staircase before the door opens, but their eyes catch me immediately and I break into a run towards my room. I pass Kanna's room first though – the door's open and the lights are off, but I doubt she's asleep. I watch my hand open, a bloody curl marked in my palm, and the jewel tumbles through the open doorway. I keep running – there are footsteps behind me, and "That little bitch!" (that's his voice).

Here's way things start to blur. My lungs ache as I try to slow my respiration, as I stuff myself into the bottom of my closet and shut my eyes _tight, so tight_ like the closet door I'm wishing had a lock. Anything physical I feel is barely there in comparison to the fear closing in on me. This was stupid. This was a mistake. There are footsteps outside my room – please no, please no. What could I do? I could get out of this stupid hiding place and apologize. To him? I don't want to apologize to him – that _fucker_ – and I know I can't take getting hit, bleeding, but what if it goes to far? I don't matter, he could kill me, he knows he could. I should've shot him so long ago, way back then when I had the chance. Almost 18, still the same, same old fucking story, and what if–

Finally, after they've searched everywhere else, the closet door opens. I could scream, "It was just a joke! It's in Kanna's room, I swear!" but I don't, and don't know why. Hands take me, pulling me up, pushing me to the side.

"Your Father wants a word with you. Come on."

I should follow them, but I don't. I stay still, mouth closed. I resist when the pull me forwards. I kick as they drag me out. Such a stupid little girl, you damn stupid little girl! It's horrid to know, to experience it again from the same angle, knowing. Knowing how many times my head will thud against the stairs, the place they'll leave me, the look on Naraku face as he stands over me. How he'll smirk.

"So much trouble over such a little jewel. One terribly valuable little jewel." I wince inwardly as he smirks. "Do you have something of mine, Kagura?"

My mouth moves without my consent, but all of hers. "No."

Pressure is applied to my hand, finger bones threatening to crack under someone's weight.

"I'll ask you again…"

"Ask all you want," comes my cocky voice, "but I don't have your stupid piece of shit jewel!"

The pressure comes off my hand suddenly and I feel it being lifted, someone grabbing my little finger and then a loud _crack_. I scream, but the pain is still there, throbbing rhythmically. Vision blurred, I hide inside my body and refuse to speak, taking hit after hit with a delirious smile. Minutes pass. There's the smell and bitter taste of my own blood, along with rot drifting upwards from beneath the floorboards. It's too much (here's where I start to fade out), and he's going too far, but I overstepped and…

_It's just so much easier just not to be here_.

I can feel the younger Kagura letting go of the moment, pretending none of it is happening. Just a nightmare. Nothing happened, and she didn't to anything to make it happen (it was a stupid, little thing from her eyes, but from his it was huge, must've been. I guess I was used to him overreacting, slapping me around for the fun of it, but it was never this bad). Even as it was going on, I was erasing it in my head. I was trying to get rid of it, because honestly, as he screamed at me and kicked me again, taunting me and fucking enjoying it, I thought quietly, that I might die. Everything was suddenly in a focus too sharp and I needed to get away. It was too real, and death was too easy.

Faintly…

"We looked around boss, but we can't find it. Hey… hey, I don't think she has it, maybe you should–"

"Tear apart her room," Naraku growls, somewhere. "I know she took it. I saw it in her hand; she probably hid it somewhere…"

Footsteps leave me. Darkness closes in, and it's sweet.

There are only short clips of the next few days, as I was in a medicated sleep for most of it (though I remember that people were searching my room thoroughly, and then started on the entire house). A friend of Naraku's, the doctor, comes in to treat me. He tells me I'm lucky – only several of my fingers, a few ribs and my nose had been broken. The majority of my injuries were bruises, though my lip was cut open badly as well (and that brutal gash in my back…). As soon as I had healed, I convinced myself those injuries had never happened. I managed to graduate high school, barely. Instead of going to an after-party, I went home to pack up what I needed and was gone by the next morning.

_Gasping for breath as I break the surface._

So that's how it had been. It's… a little disturbing to know that I've been fooling myself so well all that time. I slip back into reality (the undecided place where there are still chances) and try to push myself back into the middle of things, hoping I've only been out of it for a short time. The past is the past, however gruesome or troubling, and now is where I need to be. Sesshou-maru is still holding my arm, staring at me anxiously while Naraku blathers on…

"…and recently I've run into a little problem, you see. Blackmail – it's never pretty, especially when one's been able to keep a spotless record for so long. But a certain rival has managed to trace me – _somehow_ – to the jewel's disappearance, and he's threatening to… expose me if I'm not able to produce it. _So much trouble over such a little jewel_. That thing has been causing misfortunate for centuries, apparently; it–"

"I don't have it."

He looks up, almost surprised. "Did you–"

"Same as it always was," I hiss at him, my fingers digging into the stiff mattress. What good would telling him I threw it into Kanna's room do now? "I don't have it. Tough luck."

"Well then." His expression turns from confusion to amusement, another sick smile making its way onto his pallid face. "Well then, I guess you're _still_ of no good use to me. You're a disappointment, Kagura…"

Making sure my features are set strongly, I bring myself to my feet and Sesshou-maru follows. We're going to get the fuck out of here and live to tell, I swear. I don't care what Naraku does, I'll do everything I can to keep living. And not just to spite him either – because I want us to, and I owe it to Sesshou-maru. Fuck death; I'm not done living.

"Where do you think you're going?" Naraku taunts. "Think I'm going to just let you leave? No, you've caused me far too much difficulty, Kagura, to let you off without paying me back even a little."

"I'm not doing anything for you," I tell him.

"You don't really have a choice," he growls, lunging forward. Intake of breath. Sesshou-maru pulls my body behind his, arms squeezing me tight and refusing to loosen. All I can see is the black fabric covering his chest.

_Gunshots._

You think I would be used to them, but they still make me jump. Screams get caught in my throat, coming out in muffled squeaks. I can't see, damnit, who shot? If it was Naraku, then… no, it's Naraku's voice that's yelping. I hear a body hit the floor near me (not Sesshou-maru, so it must be… then who shot, if his arms have been still?). Twisting my body around – one, two, three more shots sound – I manage to peek over Sesshou-maru's arm, but only enough to be sure of a few simple, but crucial things. Naraku is bleeding on the floor beside us. There's someone in the doorway holding a pistol. The shots keep coming – four, five, six, seven, eight – until there's no more bullets left, and there's nothing but a dull 'click' as they pull the trigger – nine, ten, eleven, twelve – and they drop down to their knees. Their weapon falls to the floor with a clatter.

"Kanna."

She sits there in the doorway, stained golden by the lamp's glow, just staring at Naraku (gasping, choking, dying slowly) with her expressionless eyes. Sesshou-maru's arms loosen and he allows me to take several cautious step towards her. She's older, with a womanish body and longer hair, but she still looks like the Kanna I used to know as my sister, my fellow prisoner, my hesitant partner in crime.

"There…" she mumbles, most likely to herself. "There, finally."

"Kanna, are you–"

"I finished it," she cuts in.

And then it hits. I turn sharply around – there he is, lying motionless. His ragged breathing has stopped.

He's dead. Naraku is dead, and… what now? Should I happy? I want to be, in a way. Serves him right, doesn't it? I should be glad he's gone for good, and he can't do any more damage to anyone. This should set it all straight, but does it? He's still… he was still human, just like the rest of us, even if he was such a bastard while he was alive. Death is death is death. He was my father. But if Kanna hadn't shot him, what would he have done to us? I don't know.

I don't know.

"Kagura?" Sesshou-maru asks. "Shouldn't we be getting out of here?"

Damned practical… he's right, but…

My eyes are stuck on Naraku and I can't pull them away from his limp form, stomach-down on the floor in a pool of red that's slowly expanding outwards, sinking into the cracks in the wood. Just a cold body he used to inhabit. Same thing happened with Kagewaki. We'll all be the same eventually. Doesn't matter who you were, how hard you worked, how long you lived; you still rot when they bury you six feet under. He's gone, he's gone, _he's gone_ and I guess I'm free now, right?

After a while I'm able to convince my eyes to look at something else for a while, and manage a quick glance at Sesshou-maru, gesturing for him to give me a minute. Naraku, the jewel, the web we had to work our way through to get here – I forget that mess for a moment.

"Kanna?"

I collapse on the floor next to her, doing my best to smile. She deserves it.

"Thank you," I tell her, but she doesn't respond. "Kanna? Are you alright?"

"Y-yes. I think so." She exhales deeply. I reach forward with the intent to embrace her or something – it's been so long since I've seen her – but we're interrupted by the appearance of Jakotsu and Bankotsu at the top of the stairway. One of Bankotsu's arms is slung over Jakotsu's shoulder so Jakotsu can support his weight as they hobble over to us awkwardly. I guess they made it alive as well, then, and I'm glad. (But what about the people they killed, bodies laying cold beneath us? And Renkotsu? All dead, probably…)

"Hey!" I call over to them. "You guys okay?"

"Not really!" Bankotsu replies, face half-contorted in a wince. "But we'll live, so don't worry about it. There's quite a fucking mess downstairs, though. What about you?"

"We're all fine. I guess." Sort of?

"Good. What happened to…"

No one says anything. They have to limp over here to see for themselves, and don't look bothered when they do. It's one thing to see death and start to get used to it, but the desensitization of delivering it must be a different thing entirely. Such an easy thing in this day and age – all you have to is move your finger a little, pull the trigger, and a life is snuffed out. Bang. Just like that. It's too damn easy.

"Right then," Bankotsu says, exhaling. "We should get out of here."

"Clean up," Jakotsu reminds him, wrinkling his nose a bit. "The bigger the fun, the more mess you have to clean up, sadly."

"I'll call someone," Bankotsu mutters. "I don't feel like doing cleaning and cover up tonight." He glances down at Kanna. "Who's this?"

"My sister," I tell him, and he nods, not questioning it any further. Everyone is silent for a while again, but silence leaves way too much room for thought so I pipe in again: "Alright, are we gonna go?"

"Right," someone answers, but I'm staring at the floor, the floor of this house, and not paying attention to who it was. Bankotsu and Jakotsu turn around, beginning the trek out, and I manage to pull myself shakily to my feet. Yeah, I'm okay to stand, I can walk on out of this place. Kanna, however, stays as she is. I glance at Sesshou-maru, who has come to stand beside me.

"Would you mind carrying her?" I ask.

"All right," he says, doing his best to stay apathetic. "Are you–"

"Let's worry about me later, 'kay?"

Lips pursed, Sesshou-maru bends down to Kanna, looping one arm around her back and the other beneath her knees. She lets him lift her off the ground, feet dangling in mid-air and her arms drawn into her chest. She has no reason to protest, I suppose, for does she have anywhere to go now? I don't think her eyes have left _him_ this entire time.

"Wait," she murmurs as Sesshou-maru begins out the doorway, and he pauses a moment (nope, never as badass as he tries to seem). We both watch her reach into one of the pockets on her white jacket, pulling out a small plastic bag of sorts. Glistening in the dim light as she opens the bag and pours its contents into her hand is that goddamned Shikon Jewel. Right there. The reason for this – why Naraku was playing with me, reeling me and everyone else in.

I'm tempted to ask her for it. That things probably worth enough to let us live comfortably for a long while, but before I can even put my lips into motion, it's gone from her hand. With a sudden burst of violence, Kanna whips the jewel across the room. It hits a wall with a loud _crack_, and then, reflected light shimmering, breaks. Pieces too many to count scatter over the floor, falling – some land in that large lake of blood surrounding Naraku. Shattered.

"There." Kanna sighs. "It's done."

"You had it," I start.

"I kept that for years," she says, smiling vaguely. "Good thing I did."

_Why?_ my mind interjects. _If you'd just given it to him, it would have saved us so much trouble – my life would have continued on without all this!_

"Without it, I don't think I would've been able to do this… to escape, like you did."

Without it and what it caused, would I have had enough guts to leave? I'm not sure if I believe in fate or not, but if there is such a thing, it has a pretty sick sense of humour.

"I see," Sesshou-maru says. Honestly, I doubt he does, but he lets me lean against him as we head down the stairs so I'm not complaining. Out of the house (finally, again), down the road to where the car is parked. We pile into the back seat, and I'm squished in the middle again. Jakotsu and Bankotsu have managed to patch themselves up for the time being with a shoddy first-aid kit, so we're off.

Part of me still doesn't believe it – that it's all over and gone, behind us. However, it'll still be with us, now as memories (no doubt the kind that will keep me awake at night). We're alive, though. It's easy to die, and it doesn't take very long, but living? That's the hard part, and you have to work at that for a long time, through lots of shit to do it. At any point you could give in. It's worth it though, I think, staring past Sesshou-maru (his hand warm over mine) at the dirty city racing past. I don't know what's going to happen to me tomorrow, or what Kanna's going to do after this, or anything…

But I think living is definitely, definitely worth it.


	21. An Epilogue

_life in moderation_

an epilogue

"What we want to say is that in life, there are many challenges, some painful, some tough, some that do make you wish you were dead, but you fight your battles, you overcome, and you trudge on, and no matter what comes your way, you live, damnit."

- Kirito of now disbanded Pierrot

o

It's a little funny, you know, how time just goes on. Doesn't matter what happened. Life goes on, with only a few newspaper articles – "Japanese Businessman Found Dead, Foul Play Obvious" – to assure you it happened. Sure, there's your memories and your scars, but sometimes those are hard to trust. And when the rest of the city is rushing by, continuing life as it was, I find it difficult to believe, sometimes.

Three months. It's been three months, give or take, since his death and all of that happened, and was then "cleaned up". I'm sleeping better now, without as many nightmares. The thought of him is still clinging to me heavily, and I doubt it will ever leave, but I'm getting over it. I'm a little pissed that I have to work through it all over again, but I'm getting over it. I could sit and wallow in it – let it consume and degrade me, day after day – but what would the point be? That part of me is over now, and I'm free to start something new.

It makes me sick to think that people will throw their lives away without even a second thought. Whining, "What does life matter if we're all going to die in the end?" Shitheads. Yeah, you're going to die, like it or not, but you're going to live first and you might as well make the best of that. _Memento mori_ and _carpe diem_. Make it fucking worth it. There'll be mistakes, but make them whole-heartedly. Don't take the easy way out and throw it away by loading yourself with drugs or too much alcohol or whatever.

It's a little funny, you know, just how simple it all seems now. Everything.

Jakotsu and Bankotsu have gone back to pretending to be normal citizens – they moved from this city a month or so ago, and I've only gotten a postcard since. Suikotsu only laughed a little when I asked him if he knew where they've gone, saying, "Well, with those two you never really know…"

Speaking of Suikotsu, he's certainly had his hands full lately – he expanded the clinic with a government grant. At least it has a better paint job now. Kikyou's back too and doing well, though Suikotsu only lets her work some weeknights and weekends, as he's making her go to school.

"She has potential – I can't let her waste away here with me forever," he told me as he wrung his hands and smiled a little, sadly. Oh, and that girl he found a while back – that girl whose parents I'm almost certain Naraku slaughtered – was reunited with her brother, though he's still in a coma. I have no idea what Naraku intended for him, but the bastard's dead, so it doesn't matter. Ownership of he and his sister (Kohaku and Sango, I think were their names) has been passed to someone else, or so another newspaper article said. Lucky kids.

Also, it turns out Kanna was the one at the library all along. She didn't know I worked there or anything – she just went there to get away from Naraku, which I definitely don't blame her for. I have to say, I'm proud of her, and the feeling is one I never thought I'd have. After a few days of silence, she finally opened up a little and explained how Naraku had brought her along as some kind of sick joke. Not many details were given, but apparently, Naraku was going to kill Sesshou-maru and I both after he questioned me about the jewel. It was on a whim she bought the gun a few months earlier and decided to bring it with her in case. She hadn't even thought she might kill him when waiting in the other room for him to call on her for an audience – she said it just sort of happened, and we all left it at that.

Kanna seems to be dealing well, though. She's got her own small apartment and a full-time job in the bakery where Sesshou-maru used to work for now, though no longer. His book did well, so we've got enough money to last us for a while. He's been working obsessively on a new one these days, though he won't tell me what it's about yet. I think he gets a kick out of it – watching me brim with curiosity and denying me the knowledge. Ah well, I'll get it out of him soon.

As for me, I'm doing all right, I guess. My school year ended about a week ago, so my days have been spent working at the library and catching up on all the sleep I missed studying for exams. Mrs. Higurashi's got a new boy working there, that friend of Kagome's – he's been living in their guestroom for the past while. Mrs. H doesn't mind, since it keeps him out of trouble. He was on the street before, she told me.

The weird thing is though, this boy looks a _lot_ like Sesshou-maru. It freaks me a bit when I see him, even now. Actually, Sesshou-maru saw the boy once when he picked me up from work (he's still rather protective, but I think I like it a lot now). They met eyes but didn't say anything, so I guess they just happen to look alike, nothing more.

I sigh and lean my weight back against Sesshou-maru, who is still asleep on the bed beside me. Warm flesh to warm flesh. Morning light is flooding into our (seemingly) permanently messy bedroom, making my eyes ache a little. Damn sun. I wanted to sleep in longer… though I guess I'm content to lie here half-conscious, hair messy, my limbs tangled with Sesshou-maru's. It's in no way perfect, but I'm pretty much happy here.

Breath against my shoulder, a hand touching my stomach…

"Good morning."


End file.
